Crissa

Every rung was urging her on, Her dilapidated soles forced her to abandon. Taming the relentless devil, she was ready for more hell, Carried on she did, as an empty pail would inside a well.A few strides up before the coveted prize is at hand, Before gold can be clasped as a magician would to his wand, Before the bewitching Luna defeats the piercing rays, Before the mind runs wild in a myriad of ways.On her way to the top, she is scourged by her folly That the ascent to a zenith halts only till infinity. Her eyes cannot wander below for a dismal abyss awaits, She is lost; she doubts if an attempt is too late.Her idol is her ruthless greed, A pagan to reality, she yearns to devour the trophy to feed Her voracity for immortal reverie.The ladder initially, it seems, would transport her To a castle of perpetual wealth no one can dare offer. Instead, she turns into a solitary beast in the desert of perplexity, With her spirit intent on possessing the summit in its entirety And her body falling to the depths of oblivion.