Barely beating for long; Lengthy year in the blue. Colours crept through the cracks, Shingles clinged to the roof. Nearly gone, but she's here; The brink close to the edge. She inhales from her lungs; Climbing mountains instead. Every minute ticked by; Now she ticks what she does. Tumbling high over hurdles, Letting go of what was. Living life she still has, As she tears up the will. Watching valleys below; Running up for the hills.