Destruction

Awake long before the first hint of dawn, she dreams loudly and brightly, drowning messy thoughts in a witch's brew of memory, hope, and words. Always words, spilling eagerly from her like so many lost laughs, fleeting glimpses of joy peeking awkwardly through the mist of pain. Always pain, pulsing recklessly through her, craving her destruction. Awake long after the last whisper of dusk, she scribes silently and swiftly, quelling urges for oblivion with each stanza, unruffled. She endures.