Her morality, emotionally stricken,
She sleeps, her aimless assertion,
The chapter, she has whole heartedly written,
Fades, deep into an inevitable oblivion.
She wakes, seeking a voice to be heard.
The sound, an abundance of stillness.
The tears, a broken reservoir,
The alleviation, in her mind she has found.
She counts, why must she always falter?
Her conscience, the deafening silence.
She feels it growing now,
This ailing, whirlwind of violence.
She runs, an echoing rhythm,
The distance completes the division,
Her home, a vague recollection,
Their faces, deepening the incision.
She startles, the irrepressible haunting,
Its face, so poignant and cunning.
She quickens, its takeover, daunting.
Her life, she spends lost and running.
