kill it to the side

Thin is the glass
that's splintered in the side
of the one who bows out softly
refusing to hear
woefully deflecting the spears
with no lover to love
and no sighting the dove
nothing comes to resolve
the spinning windows revolve
and when night settles down
she'll sleep deep in the ground

I don't really know the girl who wrote this, but I thought it was interesting.