A shackle for every spoken word of hers,

That was the life she led,

Beneath the blanket,

She found herself,

Every tear washed a part of her,

A sun rise was the beckoning of her time in prison,

Seeing friends turn into strangers,

Watching conforming minds give up their dreams,

The light giving power to her demons,

It was a topsy-turvy life,

The close of the day,

The setting sun,

Brightened the deepest spaces of her mind,

It was beneath the blanket,

She found a world of her own,

That allowed her to steal a smile or two,

Before the nightmares,

Began their turbulence filled show. 


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