Face laced with grace, and pure white hair
She rocks back and forth on her rocking chair
Creak Creak goes the joints, of her knee and elbow
As her thoughts cross reality, by the window
Her life has had hardships, oh more than fair share
Who knows of the malice behind her glare
Each face, each falter is a brand new trail
Imaginary Sub Plot, Imaginary Tale
Each word from the lips of those who care
Is turned from mundane to illicit affair
Her sons and daughters and lovely grandchild
Are turned into traitors, as her thoughts run wild.
Blinded by fantasy, shielded by fear
Self created both, which costs her dear
She knows not the truth, but makes her own
In her silent suffering, as she sits all alone.
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