she sits alone
watching a world of her own
appearing lost but she is not
she wants to understand
and know much more
which when her 'she' is 'I'
she cannot know
the order, the light
amidst the chaos and fright
the unsolicited incite
that deflect her might
the illusory contours
that keep her ashore
the obscure metaphors
that chain her to her yore
the twisted crossroads
that debilitate her will
the monochromes, the shadows
that hold her still
it's then when she faces so many ‘why’s’
that she let's the Observer become the I
