Every night her thoughts drifted somewhere new.
Boarding a late night flight anywhere she could afford.
Living a broad.
One foot in a dream, the other in her bed.
Lost in the abyss of the clouds.
Suffering from a depression only cleared by the thought of clouds.
The sin of punctured veins seeking release.
A banshee roaming the taste
Of sorrow.
Freed only by the thought of escape.
Any place but there.
That feeling of always being trapped, alone.
Only at night is she free to roam as she once was.
Any place she could afford.
Boarding the next flight her soul could provide