She was...

She was as lonely as a fish in a water jar,

As quaint as a lullaby from a guitar

Oh she was indeed in a world full of relations,

But it more or less seemed like a strange nation

She always wanted to sway away in fine mood,

Never wanted to keep aloof and be rude

She convinced herself that she was happy for a while,

Till her heart gave up to be senile

She immersed herself in things,

Whenever she was at an emotional brink

She tried nursing herself out of emotional lows,

For she felt alone and odd one out in millions of perfectly symmetric and mingled rows

She would be the child and she only would be the mother,

For she was at a depressing peak where she could trust no other

She became her own joy, heart and soul

And was her own pain, her stress and the hurt

For she knew that for a long time, she would not trust anyone like she did herself

For she knew that she had no choice, but to become her own comforting voice…