But there is a time when all stands still.
The ticking tocking hands begin to freeze
Her heart, steadily begins to beat
Motion meets defeat, as her reasoning comfortably takes the back seat
Her feet planted to the concrete.
There she is, can't you see her?
There she breathes, in the world she created out of the fragments of her dreams.
She feels, she has longed to feel.
The very thing they sought to steal
But with time she healed
And here she stands fullfilled
She is in that place again isn't she?
That world that only her sees?
These paintings are more than just art to her it seems
This art is the clue to the mystery
To look within her entity
You must live in the art gallery.