Shatter my glass ceiling and cause the world I know to crash down upon me. Leaving shards of a broken reality in my hair. I shake myself loose from fading memory. At least I try to as I dance with a shadowy past. A past that seems to match me step for step lately. Under full moon or blood moon it still moves so well. I move so well with a hand that never lets go. I hover between a broken reality below and a broken ceiling above. An entrapment of my making.