I am cold.
I sit, here, in this castle.
The walls that surround me are of my own making.
I’ve spent years to attain this, this solitude.
Brick by brick, it is my design,
my place of rest and respite.
I am proud of this, what I have built.
Proud.
It’s knowing that it’s mine,
un scalable walls and all,
armor for the war without.
For years I have hidden here.
Waiting.
For the time when it will be safe to emerge.
Like the butterfly, wrapped in silk.
I sit.
And wait.
