As a rippling pond the music flows
and so on and still on it goes through all
the notes which form songs wild, yet the boat rows
as it changes the patterns myriad
in the water and makes it fly, not flow
and no she is alone, she can not see.

The water hates her and is closing all around.
A mere touch of a key has sent her plummeting.
The song screams, sags beneath the bulk of dark closing down.
She knows that there is no hope, no dream still for she.

No, nothing left when her body not still her own.
Another one is inside her, gaining control.
This like the feeling of the damned; private self breached.
"Lord, why," she cries, "is somebody inside of me?"