golden-ash

When darkness rips away her joy With claws that flay and deftly tear, Her bones and sinew are laid bare As lifeless as a tattered toy, Her heartbeat gently pulses quick Beneath that skin like porcelain, Each slash breeds more adrenaline As palms grow slick and breath constricts, Her eyes see nothing but the pain, Her very sanity is slain, But as she clutches onto hope And feels the fibres of her rope, She knows that daylight’s face is near Which means she will outlive the fear.