Borderline Seed has calmed down significantly,
I know better than to believe her change in scenery,
Her paranoia runs her life
All she does is fly,
"I need my mother," I cry,
"You don't," My friend replies.
.
Usually, my shell hardens its wall,
And the gloss marks my falls:
This time, I take away Dahlia's power,
I have not spoken as she sits alone.
.
Her cave is empty and cold.
Nothing is muttered,
I do not feel upset or angry,
Peace is what surrounds me.
All I can say is I pity her weeds,
And maybe one day, she will realize how lonely she makes one to be.