Dedicated to raind33r for the cover! :)
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From the very start, she was the one who stepped into that garden of thorns.
A shroud of dark grey covered the whole garden, enveloping it. But sunlight infiltrated through, however little. She was happy, even when the dark clouds came; accompanied by rumbling thunder and heavy rain. For although the world had turned its back against the garden, the brambles were still growing, and nourished.
The world welcomed the garden back after the heavy thunderstorm. The brambles had been ravished by the furious storm, but they stayed deeply rooted. Steadily, more sunlight shone into the garden. More and more; more and more; until the garden was bathed in its own warm glow, save for those rare times where the sky would turn dark again.
She danced with so light a foot in the garden, not caring about the thorns that pricked her and made her bled numerous times; not caring about the sharpness of the pain that came with every foot she took. For she was content, satisfied and happy, despite the scars and wounds that adorned her feet.
Time passed, and she could still be seen dancing in that garden among all the brambles, getting pricked and bleeding tears of red. No, she did not stop, no matter how hard it was to convince herself to continue dancing in that garden.
She was disheartened at times, but just a glance at a new flower bud will give her life again. Increasingly, more and more flower buds appeared, and more flowers were blooming. Her laughter could be heard in those confines, tinkling and gay among the thorns.
Those thorns; the things that pricked her endlessly.
Yet she continued to dance in that garden. Then came a day where she suddenly felt so tired. The blood on her feet sank into dust and was absorbed by the earth. No more could she draw comfort from her precious garden. The brambles still stayed deeply rooted. They flourished, even. At the expense of her tears of red.
Now, no more light-footed steps can be heard. No more tinkling laughter. She walks now, and is still endlessly pricked by numerous thorns. She still sheds tears of blood, but now beads of crystals join them. For she was tired, and although she still continues on in her precious garden, she knew one day, she might just fall.
