Questionable Sanity

It started small,
A little tickle
It started to call,
An edged fiddle

Dwelling in the dark
Behind her eyes
Leaving a mark,
Tallying the lies

Thoughts coded and wrong,
She's jaded and cracked
With a touch like fire,
Or a live wire

She's a web of silk and diamond dew,
Ensnaring those who near
She's dry of soul and living blood,
Striking those who dare

Alone, she remembers
Her silence screams
Futile; numb again,
The cycle begins anew