She was built on shattered dreams, promises frayed at the seams, wishing wells where hope waits at the bottom, until the end of a golden summer greets autumn.
She never wanted the weight of a thousand knives like freight, all twisting flesh on her back, circling around a single track.
Still, she runs her fingers along the rips, collecting light on her fingertipsβ a glow in darkness she will bear, not to be consumed, but always there.