Pins, Polished with morbid malevolence Sharpened with whets of wickedness Prick with painful precision First with callous apathy Then with a mocking indulgence Thrusting her Firmly and resolutely Into the murky echelons of despondency. Pricking ceaselessly at her soul With gritty determination Unearthing those awful sores Of inexplicable misery and dejection Mercilessly mauling all bringers of hope They jab on. Even if she couldn’t heal Those pin-pricked sores Those sores flecked with evil intent, Garnished with sinful slyness, All was not quite so inexorable For she could leap With stealth and agility Through the window To worlds lying far beyond our own. Worlds woven; intricately, exquisitely With exotic imaginings Bewitched into being With enchanting lies Into whose refuge she could flee To escape those painful pricks An ethereal wall of deception Reinforced with tantalizing dreams Shielding her from those pin induced twinges Still attacking her with rhythmic regularity More than you ever would know. But she is safe for now Amidst a labyrinth of lies Lost in the mist of myriad worlds The faint flicker of a smile plays upon her face.