Vanilla hangs in the air and dances, Making itself at home, Paint stains her skin and desires, Bubbling with creativity, boiling over with dreams, Dark demons cling to the corners, She pushes them back, ignore, ignore, Tingling with entrancements she trounces forwards, Leaving her tortures in the depths, Swishing swirls cover her page radiating a euphoric glow, Does she paint the light to rebuke the dark? Or does she simply wish to meld the two in a crossed road of idolized evil?