Wayward

Brave

The girl found that she'd left her braver half in her stories, flinching at everything she sees now. Struggling to see the difference between moths and butterflies, after all they were just insects. The compounds were smaller and less exhilarating nowadays, only embodying grazed elbows and knees; this girl had stopped believing she was invincible. Invulnerable
  [Vulnerable], idealizing child was who she was, one that refused to tether herself to reality. Her eyes in a constant state of vacant, drifting away from the world and shifting through shades of lilac, always coming back to the faded and yellowing mauve. The holes in her sock gave away, no longer two separate holes but one. She frowned and tugged at it more, as though doing so can magically make them two again. The girl sometimes felt as though her memories had feelings of it's own, making unmentioned visits at needless times and disappearing when dire. Only coming in snippets, never as a whole and never as a clear image.