Clockwork Girl

A flickering candle, aggravated by the sighs of a girl not quite alive,
Her breath, nothing but an indication of a living machine,
Anger and wrath runs through her, attaching themselves,
To the cells that keep her clockwork insides ticking.

Her head is a million miles above the atmosphere,
Spiralling and spinning through the infinity and impossibility,
Her feet are rooted deep into the centre of the earth,
Her toes touching the burning hot core.

Her soul is hidden and withering in the depths of the coldest and darkest cave,
Shivering and dying from despair,
Her heart, in the hands of cruel, tyrannic love,
Crushing and squeezing the life out of her.

Bury yourself for this life will put you there anyway.