Petals confined by transparent wire. Roots embedded in the red soaked mire. Gasping for air, she twists and she turns. Old scars opened by self sharpened thorns. A blaze she does see in her darkest of nights. The fire of her dreams; such a bright burning light. And when the flames near, and then flicker and die, she watches them fade without wondering why. For her inner struggle has now changed its pace. Shes been robbed of her will. Such a long, hard race. Shes surrendered, and now, forgetting her needs, she will wait for the day she no longer bleeds.