The universe curled around her neck

Sometimes it tightened

Sometimes it expanded

Her reaction for both though

Was from a dark philosophy

that always left her gasping

She stepped on the streets

to find them all staring

Trying to touch the wind

that drove all around her

Never realising that to her

It was a cyclone

The screen of entertainment

The box of despair

In it, she appeared

to dance to despair

But they wanted to trap her

record in her art

All she wanted in it was

a self-reflection

that turned into a black mirror

and a black hole full of wants.

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