she misses out on the words that would inspire the songs floating above her waiting only for her to reach out and pick them out of the crimson sky. thick bold streaks run down puffy cheeks as she digs within herself desprate to come out up with something gold. gold studded with gems is what her tiny little heart aches for. a fist full of speckled air is what she draws out. Dissapointed her eyes well up but she holds on to her crystals well and wills them back within where she envisions them draping themselves over her corners her shadows so that in the end her insides will be painted in a dazzling sheet of a silverwhite that will reflect the little hopes the little ideas the little aspirations of her little heart and multiply them till they line the lines of her being and fill her completly. and then she will forget. that were she to reach out and touch them her fingers would sweep only through thin air for their reality just like her own remains to this day an illusion. that of reflections that may have been a little more real perhaps in a life not her own...