“Her beauty is the leaves during Autumn, meant to fall, and be swept upon the road like tears across cheeks. ‘Why lie to yourself?’ might say any sensible person, to this disdainful soul. She counts Heaven for its stars, though never for its sole kingdom. A mansion has a place for her, though the beds are rotten, as the staircases have been chewed by termites. She cannot climb something to reach something, without falling through her own steps.
A life of pleasure has turned to stone.”– To not Sink a Friend