HER BOOK OF POETRIES

ARCADE

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Her mind's made of glass.
She acts everything with class.
Her heart's made of stone.
Nobody knows her, from her soul, her bones.

She plays her life like it's a game,
She lives her life no need for name.
She's pretty, she's delicate.
But she thinks it's a game, so don't get into the fire she'll lit.

She's one big game,
Her life's so lame.
She's alive, she is.
But she can't feel ang bliss.

She wins, she loses.
Every door she opens, closes.
Tears drop from her eyes
And she sees every truth from its lies.

She's curious what it's like to be up high.
She claims, but she always falls.
Her life, she's never seen a beautiful sky.
For it's an arcade afterall.

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