A Brief Star

She falls from the heavens, just that momentary streak of brilliant white nobody cares to see, expanding into a dark and grimy alley. A faint and dying star straddled with talents weakly rejected, she huddles on the ground. The light once calling her home has vanished from the abyss of soulless eyes, and she is but the ash, a wisp of smoke, from a pool of hardened wax.

She is now just feared memories enclosed in a tarnished locket, cast aside for mere trifles she can never enjoy. Caught between existences, a mere fish trapped in a maelstrom that drags her down to the hellish depths. The sun tries to spark her wick once more, but ice and sleet crack within her deadly pale cheeks, a hint of wintry green ghostly fading.

Always a limp puppet mastered by Death, yanking on her thin, fraying strings until her spirit yields to His will, dragged from the mortal wooden box she once slept in.