The walls of the halls are

Stark, white, narrow

Constricting,

But they're the bone to her marrow

Her chances are slim

And her eyes are wide

Her mind is set

But her dream she does hide

The walls of the halls are

Contracting:

She is a doe

Who emerges a deer

Darting through the forest

Swimming a mountain upstream

Back and forth

Forth and back

Everything feels narrow

But it's the bone to her marrow

No more average Joe

Now she's donned a silver bow

Aim the ambitious arrow

Let go