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.