And after the hurricane
She wore a tapestry out of cobwebs.
Used ink bleeding from her fingertips
To sign her name
Beneath the truth.
Till they told her the hurricane was a
Fictional conspiracy,
Saying she'd have seen the sunshine
If she were wise.
She thought to herself:
If they don't believe me,
Why should I?
And so she clawed through her tower,
Collecting raindrops
To prove to herself that she was not someone to
Invent fabricated props
Like a delusional playwright with
A crumbling set of plotholes.
As they threw stands of disbelief
She continued collecting raindrops
Each more cloudy than the last,
Repeating to herself
It happened
It happened.
It happened?
Putting her mind on trial,
They did the same with bleeding dockets.
Her certainty diminished with each test,
And her tapestry blew away
Mocking her mounting distrust.
As she feared her mind had gone
Her dry, stained fingertips found
No more raindrops.