She who walks in devastation of her own <br />confrontation, in relations to the upsets of <br />immoral motivation. <br />Clueless is she to the law of lifes nominations, <br />Complications in her search for the right <br />denominations. <br />Others denounce her will <br />Always trying to steal a deal, <br />Yet actions of her kind will oneday get her <br />killed. <br />Greed is the scene of ones own being, <br />Pressing the issue's of wanting and needing a certain <br />kind of bling. <br />Clink-Clink, <br />Sounds of a big steel door, <br />With shakles dragging to the floor, <br />So sore from leaving the bricks for the upcoming <br />war. <br />The war is near no end. <br />She reflex back knowing she has no other friend <br />yet, not trying to bend, <br />Fighting a battle she can not win. <br />She's holding a lost key, <br />Trying to unlock the door of reflextion she knows as <br />She....<br /><br />Tiffany Saxon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/she-62/
