She is falling down,
it is a cold place,
a place where no one’s love can warm her.
Falling down, she looks around,
for an overhang,
but she slipped and fell.

And there she is, alone
in a cold and lonely place,
And she couldn’t turn to her family,
because to them she is a coward,
And she couldn’t run to escape reality,
because this is where she belongs.

Earth under her feet is solid,
no matter,
how hard she tries to jump,
she couldn’t reach the cliff.

Fear, inspired by cold and darkness,
surrounding her,
she feels timid,
with cold feet, she is staggering.

Increasing darkness,
resisting motion,
bending knees,
Walking towards the graveyard,
the place is stinky,
no, not the dead bodies
but the died ideas
the died talents,
the died inventions.

They lived a comfortable life,
she thought,
while they lived,
courage died.

When it was hard for her to breath,
she turned around.
But there was no direction.
can the purpose find its direction?

She fell deep down,
somewhere below the surface,
a fragile grip on confidence,
and she is falling.

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