She lays still at three a.m.,
Her breath matching the
Silent beat of a world
Waiting for her outside.
[Waiting to see her fail.]

And she stares all night
At the painted ceilings
Creating figures and faces
With the cracks in their structure.
[Just like her.]

And she wonders, if she were to paint
The walls with her colours and her
words, would they stop closing in on her
Or would they lock her up any faster?
[She hopes for the former.]

But she knows it's just more wishful
Thinking, so shuts shut her eyes
Tight and ignore the monsters
Looming over her as she sleeps.
[Or rather, tries to.]