Pale Porcelain

Clad in bright white sapphire Millions crawl, the exhausted lay to admire Within its swelling eye thousands desire At the back I lie, waiting to expire Scratching the walls without respire I danced into crossfire With a soul which yearns to retire Lips littered with satire A heart prosecuted to hellfire Still, my porcelain surface shone as if a luminaire Slowly the winds fill me with tire Yet for the last time, my body rose high of inspire Amidst the silent woods, my mind's a wildfire All that remains, a mind left in quagmire