Fragility was born in a bad place,
Where none knew of its kind,
Its genuine softness or kindness embedded in its spine,
None could see why she ran when others would stroll,
Or why she panted when others would smoke,
Why she built a four-walled box with a one-way entrance,
Why she felt calm standing against the wall facing the creeping distance,
Nothing could comprehend the war in her chest,
The delicate struggle in her deteriorating essence,
What made her like a shape she was in,
What caused her to be this insane,
A wise old owl could foretell,
The seeping future coming to the land,
Where boxed walls would vanish altogether,
A land jagged with unharmonious energies,
Clashing day and night for tranquility,
Something would arrive, an 'event' of a lifetime,
Where grimaces would rise as the structure would wobble,
Uncertain masses would throttle,
Cure being sought,
Inevitable, ache, deceit, knives inevitable,
Search would slowly die,
Something, anything, a thing! Would rise,
The unturnable culmination of the pride,
The blood quenching the thirst of land will finally ignite;
the gentle dragging steps of her kind,
The blazing trail that will take us back in time