The Prison

The first in the row's spent the most time alone,
she was caring and lovely and kind.
She was thrown in her cell when
things stopped going well
and hasn't seen daylight since then.

The second cell down holds a paper girl,
who's pretty and painted and fake.
She became useless when
the stories grew fruitless
and the mask was tossed to the side.

Next comes the criminal who took from herself
who's hate-fire seared from within.
She's angry and spiteful and
her screaming is frightful
and she never stops fighting to escape.

The last one is silent,
never mad, never violent.
She's resigned to her fate and
though her sorrow is great,
it's her own fault for trusting in love.


The warden of this prison's a whimpering shell,
she's running out of places to hide.
She's afraid of them all and
can't run from their calls,
the music won't go any louder.

She huddles in darkness
fearing who'll come next.
There isn't enough left
to get broken again
and she's running out of cells.