She makes an idol of herself
One who wavers in mirage and myth
Shackled and trapped by her own vanity
She bows to worship at the throne
Every day she makes the sacrifice
She is the lamb to the slaughter
But her prayers are never answered
For her idol is lifeless, a shadow
Only becoming
It rules her life
Yet yields no real power
She is hungry for salvation
But will find no solace
In the face of a hollow god
With dedication she performs her sacred rites
And stands tall against non-believers
She will fight to the death
Only to die a martyr
For a cause that never mattered
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