What could they do for the girl with dull eyes that alight with a fire when words were spoken. Her heart quickens in a rush as soft hands console her, but their words only make her dim. How could she explain the way the words felt? A heavy weight against her mind and her heart. How the words became pictures, spinning and twisting in her head, ways to get them out, but no focus on her reality. She was lost in worlds of paper and ink, real and unreal. They sang in her dreams, vivid sparks of a flame that could never be curbed or crushed.
They tore and made, destroyed and loved, carresed with gentle breaths and stabbed with knives of comforting words. They have always been her downfall, words, never to be expressed.
Except to the boy with the bright brown eyes, understanding and perhaps even as mad as her with the words the people carved into her flesh.
