She's at a place between the times
where life comes slowly in twisted rhymes.
Can she see through the mist?
She can't beat it with sword or fist.
Would you leave her? Go ahead.
Her feet drag slowly, heavy as lead.
She is not a child, not afraid.
But she's not adult, this trip she's never made.
She needs you, don't you see?
Guide her, Help her into what she will someday be.