The words etched across her notebook are cold,
Withered by time and no longer bold.
They are difficult to read by the naked eye
And even harder for a lost mind to identify.
She squints at the paper through droplets of defeat
And finds it harder and harder to read.
These words that she wrote many years before
Have turned into a shadow of what she is no more.
The words on the paper are hauntingly there.
To remind her that it’s never too late to repair.
So she pulls out her pen and clicks it three times
And she traces over the words “You’re going to be fine.”

K.R.