Broken

She walks in circles; round and round
and round she goes.
Her feet are lagging, and
dragging along, a living but lifeless,
a ghost-clad corpse.
Her steps are heavy, her breathing coarse;
rough and leaden, gilded dust.

She leads a path, a path that she dreaded;
to tread it now, at long, long last;
she does not want it.

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