There is a small sound coming from somewhere
somewhere close by, somewhere inside her head
it’s barely heard, more felt, more than anything
it mews and moans and is barely said

A sound without words without a voice…it is
the sound of hopes, effort and dreams dying
from a slowly encroaching, enveloping sadness;
shadows creeping across her face and crying

She believed in miracles, so
miracles could save her dreams
She’s now lost and out of control
and nothing is as it seems

All the history, time, the moments laid end to end
she realized that what she thought was real
that where she thought she’d been and existed
was a world she now couldn’t even feel

Hurt by the blaring glut of too many people
telling her what to think-do-act-be-see-believe
to know that she could only do what she could do
and only do what she could ever conceive

She believed in miracles, so
miracles could save her dreams
She’s now lost and out of control
and nothing was as it seems

Rising up from the floor of disappointment
where she had been living all these long years
she can see the beginnings of an awareness
through the crystal waterfall veil of tears

It’s all what she imagined in a dream so long ago
the one destroyed, she thought, by a world so mean
so bent on denying her the center of her soul
and erasing the paths of everywhere she’s been

She believed in miracles and help,
but miracles couldn’t save her
She’s now found an image of herself
and fallen into her own favor

she fallen into her own favor
and edited the version
of her own savior