Creep into her mind and look at the world through her glass eye
Creating her own path
Cautiously not stepping on the flowers
She spoke with her mouth but it was Styrene's tongue
When she used her words as the daggers
To cut the chains that once imprisoned her in her own mind and the boundaries they set
Her only friends are the hands on the clock
With the reminder that time will heal
And time will distill
Now on two blistered feet
And beautiful battered knees
She learns that the great nectarous fruit tree is not far from where she stands