There are phantoms in her head
Dancing
They are flowers of a different colour
To those she grows at home
Some are sunlight
Some grow in shadow
But they are shades of her
Divided
And she knows not the knife they wield
When they lead her back to a second hand sofa
And dance in moments of hours
In a world of liars and thorns.
There are phantoms in her head
Keeping her safe.
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