Fire burning cold under the sky of her thoughts

As wind grabs her fiercely, and closely, and slightly 

Lets her go - 

When things are left unattended, uncared for 

They tend to find a way to grow. 

The crack in the window, the hole in the wall,

The endless voices that occupy her thoughts:

Everything points in one direction, 

But the fears outweighed her seeming bravado. 

What lies ahead had already lied beneath 

And nothing could scratch the feelings she no longer bore. 

It was an act of bravery - or foolishness, 

To fight her demons alone, 

Not that she lost the battle - or the war;

but she lost so much more.

Fighting the mayhem could not be done with warmth, 

And for that she had become cold.

Cold was her soul, 

Harsh was her path - 

And as her feet bled, 

Her heart could no longer bounce.