not knowing where to turn.
Her head was in the clouds
that day.
To her right,
she wore a pink painted life.
To the left,
a seldom black one.
Ahead of her,
the sun leads the way.
But the sign above her warns:
"do not cross".
Looking back,
she sees what she dreads.
The dark shadow
of her past.
Her world as she knew it,
deteriorates in her head.
Her clawed hands
grabbing frantically at the flying particles.
She had once been
someone's angel.
Now a modest individual
standing at the lonesome crosswalk.
With a burst of energy
and courage,
she runs towards the sun,
her final desperation.
She froze with fear,
at the sight of her reality.
Heading her way,
in one majestic swoop.
The car of reality cold,
bounces with impact.
And she opened her eyes,
for the very first time.
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