She knew also how strange she measured time. Time and space, and lack of space, and the comfort in a rhyme. There was pre life, post and purgatory, not much, though, in between. Pre life floating synonymous to living, post life, really feeling things. Now floating synonymous to friendship, love to lashing out. Lies in bed with floating while it jealously pouts. In the future lives to come, open eyes, the greeting. Life to living, past to pain, killing soldiers in between and then so much to gain.