Transitioning from then to now, she contemplates her place. But time that passes proves evident, by the wrinkles on her face.

She looks down at her worn hands, as they reflect her tears. Free Yourself branded on her wrists, so it may absorb her fears.

Place it in a basket, flowers bloom of lust. Building walls impenetrable, bricks made of magic dust.

Fairytales they faded out, so many years ago. Buried in the person she sees, yet her reflection doesn't show.