There is a vast empire
where

mats of woven light
power the cities

Giving
petty butterfly space
to creatures of the sun

trapping them
in pandora's box

keeping everyone

--even her
from expressing

the pounding of instrumental drums
of sentiment

she catches love
with a butterfly net
in the fog of fairytales

blue of the ocean
calm clarity in the sky

taking her to isolated hammocks
of hymn

sothing
the scribbled portrait
that replaces her soul

allowing a yellow smile
of tainted love

to finally
appear from magic vapour

no longer,
does she have to
bear satan's smirks

for she is
awake

the only one
--awake

from the reality
of the unreal