Cocooned

She can still see

cocooned

images passing

behind an opaque glass.

Muffled sounds

she reacts

a character in a different story;

she cannot touch

cannot feel

she is wrapped in the tight weave

a soft loneliness

that touches her body

yet leaves her soul

in silence.

She struggles to break free

a fight born of instinct

and not of passion

but the flexible walls

are indomitable.

Limp

she rests

a tentative isolation

encircling her.

Resigned

she waits

listening

to the glittering sounds of  life.

Transformation

is elusive

She cannot turn herself

into a butterfly.

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