Come play with us...
A demonic chant.
I'm not listening!
She is content, stuck between softness and warmness.
This is where I'm meant to be.
Ripe sweetness floods her as she slowly inhales. This is how she is soothed. Her anxiety slows until it rocks a lullaby:
I am happy, I am free.
She tries to swallow the lump of Truth, but it is getting more difficult everyday. Her lies need more pushing, more grunting, to birth out her bundle of peace. But she is determined. She is going to do everything she can to stay in her mantra, and she will not adhere to the forces tugging at her.
Come play with us...
Night crashes, ahh, gratefulness. She snuggles down in her warm, sticky yellow bed and forces herself into contenting dreams.
