She may seem normal to the naked eye,
Yet her heart knows more than the eye could see,
Her wings grow large as she learns how to fly,
She is stuck in this world, never to flee,
Sickness does never relinquish it's hold,
No matter the time, nor the day or year,
It hangs from her lips, it's ice from the cold,
Her time spent is short, for her eyes do hear,
A mind that's set off, lost in its own sea,
A lie in a poem, makes no sense at all,
What world will it come to, where will it be?
The ink written out to hear the mind's call,
This is the fight of what you cannot see,
We know this too well for this she is me.