Far from a life that seemingly looks fulfilling and free, always far from me is this woman I'm yet to see, this imposed prison holds me inside, it's treading a fine line that challenges even her in this time.
The streets are where her soul was lost in decay, from a land of sea and sun, she is now lost far forever on the run. The things that were seen will never be forgotten in her dreams. It's the loss of self that eventually broke the spell.
Taking from those she knows, the things that could be moved one place to another, gaining new currency that would feed a man for a day, but it was thrown deep, deep away to the riddled streets of dismay.
For only I know her today, but I can still see the fray. It's in this storm, a cloud over her head she will never go to bed, it's the day time that she dreads. One must offer a chance to go out on a limb and let her know. Just how beautiful she is indeed so.
How can such a tortured soul ever survive the UK cold, and make it out alive, the path seemed the only hope that would decide the future that lay in her wake, no longer intends to make another mistake.
For her time is over, the dark shadow of her former soul has split from her body and is awash, lost out at sea. How could this woman ever truly be free? She must live with the things she has seen, but her soul is so clear to me, a most beautiful thing one just has to see.
©thegizz211
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