Deadly Peace

After the lightened haze, she turned her head to be locked in a box of velvet bricks. Walls so thick, cannot hear the sobs of this wretched detachment — desolation bleeds out the eye. So cold, yet soothing; this deadly peace in which She abides. Her home of mirror loathing. A self-constructed castle of fabrications. Beyond are Smiles of paint, sighs of concealed impatience.