Your apathy is unsettling.

We relinquish our gifts

But keep the wee morning hours full of song.

The seamstress awakens clothed in forever chanting clocks.

"Regret with me," the time and space we chose.

Everything is angry here.

Among the glow, the lure of her effervescent tower

The boy stands, he calls

But she's encased in rags and braids

"Repunzel, Repunzel"

Forever long hair falls

Her motions are closed and muted as he climbs

Bent against the danger; she is held inside.