She is a very pretty girl. I think her life is perfect. But, it is not. She carries pain and wounds unseen by us. Disappointment sits beside her, gently whispering, “It doesn’t matter. It will never happen.” And she listens. She listens too much. And her heart breaks every day with every broken promise. So, the tears flow, down the crevices and dips of her cheeks, splashing on her hands and feet. And she is left with sorrow and glittered tears under her finger nails.
What now?
Sadness.
There is so much sadness. Tears and salt. Sniffles and streaks. The river begins in her eyes. It trickles at first. Then gains speed with her wails and weeping. The flood gates are opened and the rushing torrent knocks all around her off their feet. They are swept away by her sorrow. No one can stop it. The flood waters reach the highest point and no one is safe. It washes all of it away. There is nothing left…well, not nothing, just fish bait.
