These Hands That Weep
"Where is she!?" pierced the air like a rapier, seeking a victim to slice. Penelope didn't so much as move a muscle, interrupting the therapeutic rhythm of polishing the draw of precious silver cutlery in front of her. She could already feel the pressing force of wrath that was swirling toward her, not remotely thinking she was to be saved from Mistress Dubois this time. Her supposed penalty? Having the rotten luck to have the found the eyes of Master Dubois follow her hungrily. The Mistress took her toxic mood out on Penelope at every turn, Château de la mort was no longer her haven.
Remind me again, why the universe spins around you?
Why I once found such wonderment within your eyes, now find them empty and frozen? Remind me again, for I seem to have forgotten, just exactly how I must find you.
For my lapse of memory has brought me outside your clutches and into the darkness you think surrounds me.
Alas, you're presense of ego and lack of eyesight, mist the reality.
For forgetful I may be, but forlorn of your presence I am not.
You know things are no longer normal when
breaking out of the chains is possible. The future suddenly brighter. When freedom isn't impossible.
Run Rabbit, Run
Run, run as fast as you can.