Smothered, she is unable to breathe.
Her hope cascades down in rivets, meeting streams of uncertainty. Beneath the water there are rocks so jagged that they crumble the air she grasps for.
Is this the world?
In her dreams, her fingers clasp the tightest cords of harmony. Wishes rain down on her like music notes, and she dances amongst the watery orchestra.
But her dreams crash like waves, eroding the stones heavy in her heart.
Withering between worn sentiments, her misery protrudes. It is grotesque and all-consuming. Her laughter, once buoyant, is bitter with the heady sands of shore.
She remembers living frivolously.
Innocence dies like the weakest fire. She does not know the world, but it suffocates her. Darkness is opaque. It enters her spirit, thick with corruption; it tastes like ashes.
And when she breathes again, her lungs feed off smog.
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