The owl sits on her shoulder
And her hand rests upon the lion’s mane
But she is wavering, and that vision is dissipating
She once saw that image in the mirror
And now she sees a bloody corpse upon the cold stone floor
Her castle of solitude, her fortress of alone
The place that she once took refuge in
Now is a prison that welcomes her depression
Only one outlet now remains
The words she inscribes upon the ancient parchment
Her castle library, full of troubled words and pleas for aid
But no one comes to fight the immense enemy alongside her
She needs an ally, and fast
Before the scene in the mirror comes to pass
Her door is shut and bolted
Good luck getting in, her heart’s still guarded
Even though she’s desperate for assistance
No one is allowed to enter
For she let one in once, and they left
And not a single word from them did she hear
She lost contact, and won’t open up again
Tears slide down her face, as she sits alone and types
Another attempt to save the life of the girl
Who once had the owl on her shoulder
Whose hand once rested on the lion’s mane
Save her from the vision in the mirror