The world hurt her,
And no one noticed.
Or maybe it was that no one cared.

All she could feel was the need to get out.
To get out of this skin that felt like a enclosure,
And to break the cage that guarded her heart.

There was no one to listen though
No one that wouldn’t yell or call her crazy.
Her mind was a kaleidoscope,
There was no center but no one needed to know that.
So she did the only thing she could.
She escaped even if it was only to another hell.

She took her peach canvas and began to draw lines of red.
Crimson and cherry and so pretty.
Red would pool all over until it was covered.
Covered in that stunning stain.

She pushed her art away and covered it up.
For she was scared of what people would think.
Would think of her haunting escape.

When she finally returned she saw her art had shifted.
It was no longer red but was now swirls of silver.
She loved how they looked and it became an addiction.
She hated it but she needed it.
So she made more and more.

She only had two fears in this terrible world.
She was scared that someone would find her paintings.
That one day her paintbrush would be taken and she would no longer have an escape.

The thing she was most terrified of though was that soon she would disappear.
That one day all that would be left was her silver painting with pools of red and one long letter that would explain it all.