she drifts lost between the trees,
eyes closed, her smile melancholy;
as the rain mixes with her tears.
her heart is made of stone now, filled with poisonous doubts, with hidden fears.
and it is cold, so cold and beginning to break;
weakened by the knowledge that the bright dream is over;
that she is losing, surely is losing the meaning, the reason, the world. the daemons in her head so insistent,
always whispering, always cajoling;
wearing her down, breaking her apart,
and she can no longer drown out their words,
so she finds it is easiest just to surrender;
to succumb to the nightmare,
and so she drifts lost through the rising mist;
traversing again and again the muted, dreamy inner maze of glazed memories and loss and pain;
unseeing, unbelieving; fading, all the while, fading;
slowly becoming a ghost forever condemned to wander the echoing spiral path alone.