Rhyann has such a tiny pair of dry and pallid hands,
So, if you care, please try to plan
Her life a span from arid lands.
A lack of moisture foiling choice is minor when compared
With plane of gain: pervasive pain
Contained, endangered, hiding scared.
That smiling filing badness down to vice-and-guile dust,
Cachet replaced, no joy defaced,
My hope encased by able trust.
A mythic love, Medusa-haired, now stunning via stone,
Then smashing statue--former doubt--
To sand about new pedal throne.
My steps control the path ahead, no harm can harry sole,
I'll stomp the hand of backward track,
Let heel attack disband its role.
No phantom fingers pulling thought, their lulling now repealed,
Rhyann-embrace is armor to
A mind in lieu of plate or shield.