Like a cautious fox,
concealed in the safety of the underbrush
she is timid.

As she looks out into the world
she can only see walls
far too high, for her fragile body to ascend.
So she sits in the hole she has created
chuckling at the misfortunes of others.

In her shaded burrow, she is safe.
Secure from all of the dangers
the world has to offer
So secure that she starts to feel confined.
She looks up to find
a hand.

A hand that helps guide her

through the anxieties of the outside,
igniting the sullen hearth inside of her ribcage.
She stands, adrenaline,
surging through her veins,
discovering a world
she never knew.