Her story was written in the stars,
It was a tale told by the wind each time it whistled through the trees.
—and so it goes;
It tells of a girl found shivering in the cold
Lost to everyone,
Wandering the streets alone.
Each day brought a myriad of people, new faces, she thought
But to them she must have been invisible.
—if they saw her, they gave no indication to suggest it
And it was just as well,
For she had no desire to be seen,
She reveled in whatever solitude was afforded her,
These were for her, moments of clarity.
At present she had no idea of tranquillity,
For every day in solitude left her at the mercy of a mind flooded with questions,
Questions, that no matter the number of times ask of herself, she could find no answers.
So she sat there,
Lost to everyone
Suffering for things she can never atone.