Behind the glass
there are
b
r
o
k
e
n
clocks.
Reflections of a foolish,
s
i
c
k
girl.
Trapped in an adult body,
the Artist l i n g e r s
beneath her mother's eyes;
c
a
p
t
i
v
e
of
i m a g i n a t i o n.
Caught inside the vicarious film
outside of r e a l i t y;
you were my favorite drama
e
m
b
e
l
l