Like Lizbeth Salander, hands and feet bound,
yet I am able to turn my torso,
Sonnet, and you who never leaves me, found
my shackled existence one apropos
for rhythms and Rhymes. So you helped me then,
assist me now in the work I pursue
in the darkness of a deep hope, to begin
anew and with my principal purpose:
to light the wicks of Candle-flames within
my Luminaria, Lantern of Design.
She lunges toward her Captors. Their Master
she's become while they endure as Chattel
when placed in the pages of a book, are
unable to lift even a Finger.
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