She walked the earth at a slant much like a willow tree sways in the wind. Wandered, rather, as she never found the rope ladder that hung from the stars in the distance.
Each night she'd set off and head toward the moon, knapsack filled with the necessities for a new life.
A life of nonsensical adventure in a subconscious reality.
Here she would have meaning in the colors glimmering off her back.
Here they had more than just names they had souls.
And here, when she cried, her tears would heal the wounds, erase the scars, and fuse shut the holes of her being.
She never knew what it felt like to be whole and here, in this unobtainable wonderland, she felt a speck of hope in the thought that someday she may actually know.
And then, just as quickly as she arrived the rays of sun radiate through the belly of the horizon and morning sweeps her away back to a land of burning desires and worthlessness.
Mistakenly, she lets her cries into the sores to mask the pain but here her tears have no power to mend the past.
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