‘The Fishbowl of Fears’
She walks through the forest, where the trees hum secrets,
where the wind weaves lullabies between the branches.
A place of wonder, a place of terror—
but she cannot tell which, not with the glass around her head.
Inside the fishbowl, monsters twist and swirl,
their unblinking eyes whispering every fear she’s ever known.
She watches the world beyond,
but it is painted with their shadows,
distorted, disfigured, unreal.
She knows the world is more than this—
she can feel it in the earth beneath her feet,
in the scent of pine, in the way the sun still tries to reach her.
But the fishbowl remains, heavy, invisible, inescapable.
How does one remove what is not truly there?
How does one fight an enemy born from within?
She does not know yet.
But she stands among the trees,
breathing, waiting, hoping—
and perhaps that is the beginning.