A saint who stumbles

Lucy bowed her head, her hands are clenched tight, red, furious, she trembles at a life that has poured out with nothing to be left on a wall staring blankly back for walls of hearts must bow to gold leaves that dazzle, forget hunger, try delightful and the yearnings of a silver lining retreats, for the storm is larger, bigger, more daring with walls coming closer, closer, till the lungs are squeezed together, walls invisible to the human eyes but there nonetheless each breath is now taking such efforts, had it always been this way? red, hands red, a body wrecked, fall upon the broken glass once again, a face no longer masking grace, just pain. pain, pain, pain how it roars till even clenched fist no longer feel anything when red is all around.