Placing a finger along a misplaced scar
She waits and breathes in heavily
As emotions filter over porous skin

She shuts off her senses and numbs her mind
Absorbing the invalidated trait of lines
Fractioning memories of distorted indication

Unsure by the glitter of darkness
She sheds a tear for none
And presses closer

Pushing herself against a latitude of sin
She waits for a set of hands to save her
Three altogether

Two in the first season, one in the second
She waits for the end
With three hands held by one body