Drenched in inquisition she strolls at the night unrestful.
She knocks on walls inside long corridors looking for scape.
She revisit many places touched by her worries and discontentment. She carves here and there looking for answers. She sees no doors yet.
She keeps stumbling, tired but inseparable from her feelings.
She knows she needs to stop searching, be quiet, invisible, untouchable.
She knows she needs to break the long fingers that keeps scratching her mind, again and again.
She needs to fall asleep.