Beneath the moon's cold, silver eye,
She walks alone where shadows lie.
A girl with chaos in her veins,
Addictions anchoring her chains.
The beggar sat with cards in hand,
A gypsy wind, a whispering sand.
"The Tower falls," the old man said,
"A truth will strike, you'll wish you fled."
Reality, like glass, now shatters,
Her consciousness—no longer scattered.
A daggered truth, it tears, it rends,
As darkness gathers, old wounds mend.
She wears her past like ghostly shrouds,
A shadow trailing, black and proud.
Her demons leer with burning flame,
Eyes of guilt—they know her name.
She sees herself through mirrors cursed,
A jagged soul, her sins rehearsed.
Her reflection screams, a silent dirge,
And madness sings—a wretched urge.
She stumbles through a twisted maze,
Insanity in walls ablaze.
A labyrinth where screams rebound,
And all the exits can’t be found.
The sage’s smoke—an earthly balm,
Cannot restore her spirit’s calm.
For though she begs the world to save,
The map she needs is hers to pave.
No hands but hers can cut the thread,
No voice but hers can wake the dead.
Though black fire demons haunt her way,
Her will alone can break their sway.
So in the dark, she makes a vow,
Though frail, though lost—she’ll rise somehow.
The Tower fell, but she remains,
A storm, reborn from fractured chains.
How you feel trapped in a labyrinth sometimes. Was really bored today oh so quiet 🤫