Coming To Life

She's wide awake,
but won't open her eyes.
Hands clenched so tight that her
knuckles look bleached.

She's patient, but this wait
was wasted.
Her mind spills open
like confetti,
playing pictures for everyone to see.

Her hair is deadly,
like small, translucent blades.
tricky like shark-skin,
don't get it in the wrong direction.

Words gush like preserves from broken Mason jars.
She tilts her head to get a different angle
at what's happening.

Behind bars of affliction,
white skin meets rust,
turing the tips of her shaking fingers
orange.

An itching surface,
static fills the air,
and she tries to plug her ears.

Sulking in a corner,
she cries,
alone.
Until a sudden light bursts through the
darkenss of her dreams.

A hand reaches for her's,
She would never deny this offereing,
this hope,
this light.

She's finally discovered a way out.
People watch
as she comes to life.

By: Brandi Deacon
2010