the vines that called her home wrapped ever so tightly around her already tainted lungs, taking away her breath.
the petals that once fell ever so softly upon her skin now left bruises and scars beneath.
the tears she cried, like waterfalls running down her mountainous cheeks, left behind her mascara like the rubble formed of a flood.
a mess she was, a disaster, like a cyclone of emotions.
mother nature was her spirit and hell was her home.