Hiding within her own shadow
she creeps along grasping for the wall.
the chain tugs at her ankle in excruciating pain.
no longer in her own mind
she wanders...

Where am I ?  how did I get here ?
she escapes into an obsidian realm,
with which she can breathe.
hiding in the Beauty of a ghost,
disclosing reality to one alone...

Routine constitutes life,
shackled by love,
bound by a quill
losing her will...

Rising from the dark,
no longer to hide.
she is a beautiful thing
this rose will confide...

Life anew upon her broken parts
she now has reason
interjected reality
hope
a light...at the end of this tunnel we call life...