When she treaded slowly

Mechanical with grief

Towards the empty roller coasters

The petals falling around her like

Smooth ice beauty

Framing her hair mockingly

Did she think?

Was her mind desperate

Or had she given up

In her pathetic attempt

To find frail revenge like they always do in stories

She walked casually her eyes sunken in like

A morphine addict, still swaying

Across the street

Did she cry for her childhood?

Did she feel remorse for those

Wet summer days that always felt odd

Those orange fall days in the trees with her dog

At home in Winter under the bed with a brown wool coat

Or Spring in the basement crying over flowers

No

Why did she keep walking

As if she were frozen in her fate

As if she could do nothing but move her feet forwards

Perhaps she might have looked back once

To see the world that she was slowly disappearing from

Vast, and still unrecognizable

She might have taken a detour around

Not conceded altogether to their plans

Sat on the swings like when she was a little girl

With a red ribbon

Or went to the store and bought a cake

Before she had to hide her body where it would scream

And no one could hear it.

She would have defied them somehow

Instead of passively agreeing

Like she did with her fiance

When they sat at the windows and she was afraid he would hit her

With his coffee or his hat.

She would have turned around,

And ran, just to prove her resistance

Screaming past Light Yagami

On the street corner

Laughing like she never used to

Surviving

The Naomi Misora she knew

Was strong.