She tripped over her feet, and over her words twice as much.
Graceful only in combat boots, and most comfortable
With her hair down, face naked.
She dreamed of flying, so fiercely and so often
That hardly anyone expected her to come down.
She had nothing, but wanted everything
But there was no one by her side; she was alone.
For people tried to escape when they thought she was far gone,
But she always remembered those who left.
She needed someone to stay, to help her, for she was trapped.
Eyes that had so easily and so often been lost to wonder and passion
Faded, hard and cold.
And the voices, the voices of both people she knew and those she did not,
Screamed, "Just one more hit, just one more cigarette,
Just a little blood, just to feel a little bit."
"You are nothing to us," they said. "You are just a loss."
And so, I am her protector. I keep the voices in check.
When she goes in for another hit, another drink,
I stop her, for hopes of tomorrow.
I lay her down as she holds her head and screams, "I can't do this."
I whisper, "You will be free again someday, I promise."
And she believes me, for I will not lie to her.
I am the only one she trusts.
Because she is trapped, and I can free her.