Cold, dead, withered.
Life has left her eyes.
Subordinate to no one, she lives the life she chose.
Why is she here? Who knows.
Suffering to make her stronger, or break her.
Cutting off her soul, piloting the ship of her own destruction, her friends are only allowed to watch.
They get to watch her slip down by herself.
They once offered ropes and hands, but now they see that they aren't wanted. No, they won't turn their backs on her, they will stand there, ready to jump in and save her, if she would only ask.

Clouds, once her friend, blot out the sun again. The rain soaks her skin, sending chills down to her soul. Does the misery stir up her soul, waking her from this hell?
No. She knew this is where she would be. It's where she wanted to be, all her life. She doesn't like it here, but it's home. What hath she brought down? Nothing, it was already here.

There are those who make the most of every day, those who sit and complain about it all. She ignores it all. She is numb, novacaine of the soul. Deep, she pushed the needle into her heart, freezing it in her chest, never to be thawed.

Still they watch, waiting for the word. Patiently, they never lose faith in her, even when she has committed herself to this hell.
She is no shell. She is full, full of what God gave her, but without a guiding force, it seems that all is lost.

They shift their wieght, watching her, wating for her, loving her, saddened by her self molded helplessness.
They stand there now, strong as ever, ready to bring her back to her real home, where she belongs.