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.
