Preternatural cries

I sweep the floors of a hollow house
eerie air breathes a sonnet
Magical and melancholy... one cries
At hearing a simple cord.

The words remind me of a story

(A story I once burned,
The cells in my brain,
Smelt of ash).

The story involved me,
However the 'you' was elusive.
Seemed to disappear without a trace
I named it Preternatural.

Preternatural robbed my possessions,
The most important vacancies of memoirs.

(And so my house now is hollow.
The broom hits the ash
And the wind sings of my sorrow.)

"I'm happy!" Screams a voice,
However It can not be mine, as mine
Twas vomited from an common visage
Hanged out to be collected by another.

I need now a mop, as the ashes turn to liquid
A thick liquid, entwining around my petiteness
(even though I was larger than Preternatural)

The sonnet erupts my state.
As I miserably try to escape the liquid.

Alas, the door of the dwelling is jammed
So I lay,
drowned in a liquid made by Preternatural
And I hoped,
That the one hurt by Preternatural
Learns,
It does not just take open eyes
To learn how to cry.