The weakling’s conjecture

She lived in a castle all alone.
Up in the hills, beyond man’s hold.
The castle, its windows touched with the brightest of colours,
Of walls, that remained invincible, in strength and might.
Where, when bells tolled, echoed fables that left all in awe.
It spoke of dragons, goths and dwarfs, of magic, of hexes and curses,
And of war and death.
The mere potency of which could stir your imagination or put you down to tranquaility.

The castle was her mind.