She stared at me, the message of control Wanting a dream life, isn't it my turn? She shook in question, why I would her Needing to be let go, escape it should be my turn? She stabbed in delight of torture, she was winning Craving love outside and to deserve, cannot it be my turn? She sank within my veins, to close the gate to light Urging to make purpose without noise, when will it be my turn?