Tightrope's Daughter

Doomed by her fortune,
she dances with fate.
Hardened to feeling,
she's empty of hate.

Accepting of her fortune's doom,
She seeks some solace in her tomb.
The world will not let her go.
He does not.

And death is harsh and cruel to beauty,
and the light draws nearer still,
Life comes coming on worthy duty,
Darkness moves in for the kill.

Empty of fear,
A shadow to love's light,
She casts off her feelings,
And buries them in the night.

No one to know they were there,
And why should they care?
For a face, a hand,
And a smile?

Walking as a tightrope's daughter,
a victim to her empty slaughter.
An Easter's egg, to paint then break,
Rolling down mountains, sans emergency break.

Porcelain doll of handsome clothes,
Daughter of the doves and crows,
Deliberate cruelty, she, resentful, knows.
Shaved of her thorns, an unprotected rose.

Splintered slipper Cinderella,
She's flying, falling a cappella.
Lovely,
Cold,
Empty
Estella.