She sat there in that room she’d lived in all her years. On that four poster bed that had witnessed all her fears. Contemplating her faith in words and trying to find a loophole. Just how should she spin a yarn to make up for a no- show. She sits against that headboard that still holds her memories captured in frames. Didn’t all of them said she had to go out to find herself a place and make her own trails?
Deliberating her choices was supposed to be fun. Not a matter of eeny meeny miny mow, not left to luck! Her art could drown all their doubts. Slaughter their ridicule and build back her strength. This darkness can’t stop her from getting out, it holds nothing so intense. Her words offer her a foundation to build those distant castles of clouds upon. This could be a promise of beauty by the budding new dawn. She couldn’t renegade on all her dreams, had to turn them to reality. They had to practice what they preached, this could be the key to her immortality.