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Soft wings brush

A sleeping mind, a soft target

A  soothing caress, the lightness of hope.

Ice melts into a warm summer pool, and she floats.

Solace for a tired mind, protecting all, unknown to herself.

Ice grips her body. Cruel talons replace the soft wings, or always were.

Here, at last, an obstacle. She lets go of the false summer and fights.

It’s good to know you have an enemy. It fills her with purpose. Fire surges.

As she purges the horrors she forgets. Her dreams are incinerated.

Fire burns everything, not just the bad. It saps her will.

Morning will not let her die. Sun seeps in,

Erasing memories but leaving her

Rage, and pain, and fear.