She sits in a room

Too aware of her surroundings

Obliterated by the sound of the wrong doors opening

Windows shutting out her only breeze

She whispers, almost silent

Deceptions will become violent

It’s the rain, falling ever harder, deafening her from the truth.

All alone.

Peaceful non-acceptance

Accepted sense of rejection

She struggles barely listening

Daydreams, chaos glistening

Summer sunlight in a damp September mood

She found a hope,

She found a dagger,

Found a hole in the fabric waiting to be mended

It’s been there all along.