A crucifix dangles from her neck;
A label of love, her request for respect.
The façade has slowly shattered.
But her life, it never mattered.
In the ground where she lay
Above which the illusions pray
Forever more and forever without
Friends to care about.
The sun has set on her withering valley.
It never matters in the end.
It is to her memory,
This tainted rose I send.