And Mary Misses Mark...

Mirroring sanity by moving her feet parallel with the ground.
Might be the only thing holding her in line with "destiny'.
Mary sitting in the wicker chair in the corner, transfixed upon feeding maggots.
Markedly disturbed, she watches this "feeding frenzy", filled with desire
Masking her desires for her ideals, isn't repression unhealthy?
Misery in the form of masochism, harming herself to appease others.
"Maybe they're attracted to the plastic feeling of her skin?", she asks herself.
Me thinks she has disdain for the texture, but the quality was shoddy.

Meandering in the corner, alone and small, she met Manic Mark.
Malice filling her heart, she wanted to fight with teeth.
Manipulating and abusing was easy, but her true ideals brought about guilt.
Monogamy on her mind, but it seems like only a dream.
Mad? No...just intoxicated as usual, on what substance is a mystery to me.
Mauling her innards, but she must keep up her appearance.
Martyring her ideals, fighting a fated battle...and failing.
Maybe she shouldn't have pleaded yes when he said, "Are you open-minded?".