Blood: Her Beautiful Monster

Someone once asked. How long to grow, like roots probing deep, thoughts bury. Time to to grow, it truly does . The seeds we sow take time. Time to move from this spot. The noose around the neck, the chair beneath the feet Blurred vision, knees weak, unable to ramp the fog from rolling in. They never answered the slippery slope - obviously steep, traction lost by both feet. It's hidden and sought, yet no one is rolling in. Clawing, clawing, looking for the light of day. Maybe they find it someday, quote like someone. The glint of teeth is startling against the glass, watching their candied lives. Holding their hands pressed through the walls as they did things wrong.