The wind whips throughout her hair,
Teasing fine locks into tangles and knots.
It rushes through the fabric of her dress,
The expensive woven clothing
Mud stained and torn, fluttering
Behind her as she tears out into
The woods, sure that what's ahead of her
Can't be as bad as what's behind her.
Salty dewdrops slide down pale cheeks,
Silken slippers barely touch the ground
As she flies between the trees, launching herself forwards
With every graceful step, monsters
Everywhere in this forest of nightmares.
Tatters of color float to the ground, torn off of their
Original beautiful dress.
A princess flees from her past,
A girl runs from her golden talent,
A songbird hides from its song.