Reverie

Locked up in her confort zone
made up by twenty six walls
and by a thousand labyrinths
where she walks over and over again.

She has been playing with the pictures in her shelter´s walls.
She has gave them breath, she has made them live,
but at the end they have messed up her soul

She sleeps and dreams about a thousand faces...
Sighs and terderness turn to life under her reverie,
which grows as a monument to her desires
to finally crush down to the ground as soon as
she opens her eyes to the sunlight.

Gently, every night, she knits a bubble to hide in,
but the fear of the ending of her dreaming never leaves,
meanwhile, she looses herself to her own fantasy...
becoming blind and deaf to everything else.

Once again, this peace of writing came up to my mind while thinking in "inspiration" and how it works... Maybe, it is some kind of reverie, like a world we "knit" to ourselves, that finally, we share to others...well, I hope it sounds ok ^^