Letters from the Girl in the Tower here pass the minutes from seconds to hours. Her solitary world lived stone cold in flowers. There are bars on her windows two locks on her door.
She knows the monster’s down there and feels them from bellow. So, she sits and writes her letters in an ancient, dead script that speak of high cages and deep, frightened crypts.
Beneath there is growling no safety above. From eyeless gilt burning beast watches the dove. The creatures on the ground hunger not for her skin but guard her stoney cage to keep the most dangerous animal in