perhaps she saw invisible women because she was wracked with insanity and fits of inconsequentiality
the burden of her was that of a doomed future
alive in the walls
the catch of the hound dog
so indignant of its nature

listen—

i used to see cracks in an open ceiling, reaching up beyond the atmosphere; but no, it belongs to a house, with quite stable walls may i add. and the people come and go like revolving doors, but no one claims themself victim. without a chance to fly from the nest, our minds are infested with a curse—a knowledgeable notion that some perhaps have encountered many a time before truly understanding its splendor. freedom. in its clutches made of lace and velvet, one may feel they are home. but such a power is overwhelming, squeezing lungs just by its pure force. i say, the cell walls hold me in, but it is not in fact because of my lack of ability to change, it is because a lack of pushing or shoving them. one can move the earth beneath their feet, stomping on ground claimed by millions of souls. the constraints are placed on a mind slightly devoid of integrity. once they are set, the binds get stronger every time bones become brittle with a broken mentality. see, she did not cry before she knew ownership of her voice. she cries because the voice inside of her isn’t halted by her tongue anymore by any stretch of the imagination, and she can’t retract her sentences. spiraling into havoc, the ceiling spun along with me. we drew back drywall, but nothing came out. she drove her hands between the crevices to confirm its falsehood because propensity can not be let down. she will see the cracks where they aren’t. she will notice faults that don’t exist and what are we supposed to say about this? so brave. so strong. a condition such as victimhood will cause certain death if one is not careful with it.