It is safe here. It is safe here. It is safe here.
I keep telling myself that. It is safe here.
I don’t like it here. It is safe here.
I don’t like it here. The tea isn’t good. No room. I need space. It is safe here.
But I am strong. I will try to stay and be safe.
I go outside. It is safe here. But I don’t like it. And then, the mirror. The mirror frightens me. I run back inside, frantic. It is safe here. I don’t like it here.
Food is plentiful. I am warm. I avoid the mirror. It is safe here.
But I must go. I don’t like it here.
I imagine I can be safe somewhere else. It is safe here.
I sneak away. I don’t look at the mirror. It is very quiet as I sneak away.
Too quiet. Nervous in the quiet. I rustle. Quiet. It was safe there.
I am stuck on the verge. It was safe there. I don’t like it there.
This is the edge. This is the choice. I am safe there but I don’t like it there.
So I can cross the edge. Cross it. Cross it now. Fast. Fast. Cross it fast. The possibilities are limitless.
I was safe there. But I was captive. I’m not safe here.
Why did I go?
I am free.
