No words can describe the constant terror she felt. Memories invaded her head like intruders in a home. She did all she could to drive them out; Her mocked a snow fall in winter, Delicate, soft and fragile. And her paintings were like blood Splattered all over a white bath tub. The words she spoke were bothersome, brutal, raw. Smoke soared from her incense, raising peace within herself. Suddenly, for what seemed like no reason, Everything she worked for fell apart. The memories seeped their way back in. She grew as bitter as the winter’s frigid air. She sat alone watching the snow trickle from the sky, Like she was inside of a snow globe. She picked up her paint brush and waltzed away.
