The water washed her cold dark hair.
She stands still so shadows cannot touch her.
As the words are whispered in her ear it is almost like she is a bird trapped in the sand,
But the water keeps washing and the words still fill her brain to the point of destruction.
She is not the only one.
She is just a small representation of how we feel.
We are all birds being mocked by the mockingbirds.
But because we feel small we surround ourselves with other small blue jays,
But when the last one dies we have nowhere to hide.
We are all puppets on strings being tossed around by other people.
We are scared to break these strings for we know they will only find us again.
She is not the only one.
We are all letting the water wash our hair as we stand still hiding from the shadows.
She is not the only one.