A pure and rhythmic deisgn
With a flaw nobody could see
Tangled with vines holding her back
From everything she could be.
Systematically she removed the bonds
With a smile she came back to being
All this time she thought she was living
But never was she seeing.
The thing about being bound
Are the rats that take what they can.
Those typing from far away
You aren’t quite sure are even a man.