A morning with restrained limbs, and numb organs.
She climbs into the pit of darkness, filled with the pounding of water droplets.
Uncertainty waits her return to the light
and a fear of the unknown.
So she lingers, a servant to the stream of despair.
The wreck-less strings of H2O cease, and cold grasps bare skin.
Such a way, brutal in its declarations.
When exiting, a new wisp of breath dulls the intoxicating air.
An approach worth mentioning, with candlelight and the twitching hands of a pianist.
A dragon dulling it's fire, soothing the suffocating air that encircles a girl with life's enemies.
An elf, with the quick abilities of a hawk and the wisdom of a tree in the forests of Fangorn.
With comforting silk, and dangerous words
so easily eradicated, and easily trusted.
To the fault of a wizard.
When moments of uncertainty become far more provoking
and fire is dulled,
to the birds refusing to fly.
With nimble grace, a grain of salt gratifying the remorse.
Still remaining are warm eyes,
And the truth that what is unknown, must stay unknown.
For as the girl enters her trap of darkness once again,
The breath still lingers, waiting for the time when existence proves worthy.
