Right now
she looks as if at any given moment
she is both a bundle of joy and a ticking time bomb of emotion.
Her head is filled with picasso's paint pallet
the colors of the rainbow and bright days
blurred along with the darker
more bleak schemes that everyone just brushes into shadows on canvas.
Her thoughts inspire the mountains to rise up and clash against the sky in an icy battle.
Her mind is so deep that she drowns in her head and doesn't know when to ask for help because she's afraid of being saved.
The ironic part is that she saved me.
