When she was in her twenties she was wild and radical, thinking she was the first to experience the glow of rebellion. The hot axe of youth sliced deep into her convictions. The reality of her generation, her time, moved her and the fire in her brain burned brightly.
Then the tantrums began. Lost in a deep hole of emotion, traces of blood and scratches of insanity covered the walls; they were too deep for recovery. She could climb to the top but was never able to leave the black hole.
As time passed the numbness stilled. Then the sun shone brightly on the battlefield of life giving her courage, a gift she had never known before. At last the truth has hit home. The mirror doesn’t lie. For years she looked the same but felt different. She thought she was the same. But the question remains, is Ann still a lady?