Heroine Faces Floods, Obliterates Reality

 
They all want to take care of her.
Fists wrapped in cloth.
Her eyes are a different shade in the mirror.

They all want her to do right.
She was looking for the eight-count.
No guiding hand, the ravens call.

They all want her to, want her to want her.
Don’t be tricked, gentle reader,
There’s no time travel this time.

The Last Innocent falls down the stairs and remains Innocent.