The Window

3 years old. Sadly I'm never too far from the feelings that inspired this piece.

The Window

Shadowy fingers fly across
the damned keys furiously.
Nothing seems alive,
All is silent.
Save her own mind.

Calmly and wisely it chooses
the correct words to be used.
Unconsious choices,
Quiet choices.
By her own mind.

Darkness pains her eyes, forcing strained
tears from the light she once knew.
Light from the outside,
Brightness that blinds.
Her own young mind.

Like a ghost she glides into the
light from a tiny window.
Looking outside,
From the inside,
Of her own mind.