she liked to watch the roses bloom out by the window in her room sometimes she felt the world passing her by but it didn't feel right to sit and cry even though it was a tough hand she was dealt she never let it overwhelm her, the way she felt she found joy listening to the birds sing in this house she had everything but sometimes when the night was still she would wonder how this world could be real outside her window, outside her door there was something greater, something more was this her prison or her haven the life she had, was it worth saving? the house smells like medicine, and slow death there's a struggle in each and every breath she finds her joys in books and song puts on a brave face, struggles to be strong prayers are whispered in her ear telling her the end is near and that it's okay to just let go & find the place where flowers grow