There’s a story that is often told,
Of a girl who fell in love.
He was beautiful though he was cold,
But for her, it was enough.

She was quiet as she waited,
For just a single glance.
But she was ignored and devastated,
That he never gave her a chance.

For as shy as she was, there wasn’t a fool,
Hidden beneath that mask so fair.
He would regret it, and she would get even,
For creating this nightmare.

It’s a certain song she sings,
Written in chalk somewhere on the floor.
You’ll find this and so many other things,
Behind that imprisoned door.

It is said her silence turned to beauty,
When she refused to speak his name.
It had him so enamored that when she sang to him,
He slowly went insane.

I will not come any closer.
I will not run away.
I will stay exactly where I am.

-No matter what you say-

I will stand here constantly.
I will not let my weakness show.
I will not have it beaten out of me.
I will not stoop so low.

These are the words etched in her skin,
Even though you may not see it.
They are part of her song’s enchantment,
Against those hell-bent on not believing it.