Her head,
thronged with a hollow absence
rests on the mattress of her dreams,
As though succumbing to sleep,
The world may spare these glass bones their last insult.

Reality never looked so transparent.

Yet she rests with an open eye
Drowsy and awake,
leaning against her barricade;
Like a front line soldier gripping to his fast beating
Heart against the mud wall
In the middle of a flaring night.

Flaring,
like the car lights through her windows
Traversing across the four walls in
A ghostly dance of a fairytale she
Once read,
But forgotten.

Her blanket feels
Too thin.
The world
Is peeping through the onion's layers.

A woven web around her skin
Peeped through,
Like a solider's needle pin.

Funny, isn't it?
Reality never looked so transparent.