This hand has ruffled this hair for a million nights uninterrupted
It all occurs immediately before these seriously tearful eyes of our girl
It’s been a little misshapen if she were to admit the least, the time a-trying like never quite before
She needs this to turn out better than one such outrageously addled mind can ever make itself begin to imagine
Outlandish this particular uphill struggle on her sizeable part, a weary, terrifically worn exterior to match a torn to shreds interior – to simply zero on in would be to see it all unravel like only it can
Manic wildfire portrayed and flamed in disdain oh so painstakingly within this looking-glass disaster
Have some natural heart to somehow, anyhow realise that the real she has been unnaturally, fair rip-roaringly disguised
By something rather undignified
Having cried for a thousand or so other equally sprightly souls, she just must manage to start – one suddenly prepped aside intricate and subtle step per time – to win it right back

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