She was abounded in a room,
As she sticks in a womb.
Curated with the messes,
Tangles in tresses.

Every morning enmeshed about herself
But she had to be her own self.
Trying to get out of the situation,
She had to deal with the ablation.

With a new morning things came out to sight,
The things which took years to fight.
Tortuously might,
Everything turned out to be right.

Finally she hit up,
Her surroundings lit up.
No more fouled,
No more snarled.

Brushing off the dirt,
Capsized overt.
She cleared the gate,
Go out of the bait.

More braver,
Being her own saviour.
She open the knot,
Where she was told to not.