Turmoil Poem by simon McCloud

There she stood on the edge of her illusion, expecting to find but no sent of conclusion,
It was then we watched for her self destruction, but it was someone else pushing her buttoms,
She cries in pain, naked and still, it was then we turned, we'd had our fill,
The tears rolled down fast, but the pain sets in slow, a small puddle on the ground, with no where to go,
But she's gone now and we've neither forgotten nor remember, that when she was at her worst, we where all in our slender