Frozen in exhaustion,
but ready to attack.
So many words stuck in a time reel.
There’s nothing to do.
Wandering eyes seize a reflection in the mirror.
The lenses are blurred.
As the rage begins to fade she comes into focus.
She avoids the satire eyes,
in fear she might despise.
She’s broken, battered, burned,
scars left protruding.
All this anger inside,
from whom she refuses to admit.
She copes; it’s all she knows.
This merry-go-round must soon hault.
She’s bound by a spell, cast on by herself.
A single miniscule tear trickles down her cheek.
Broken windows and shattered glass lie on the floor.
She continues her path… barefoot