Glitter lightning struck,
hitting every tree around.
It rained heavily,
The only sound heard was that of the girl.
Her voice so quiet,
she lay still in the grass, hoping the earth
would swallow her whole.
Sprinkled in daisy petals over a pure white gown,
singing softly.
Music is her therapy.
In the over grown field
she was alone.
Freedom from everything she could not
help but imagine.
There was no escaping from
her small world she'd created.
Angels protected every
hurt with one big splinter.
The light struck so brightly.
She could relate to something
that was there and had disappeared just as fast
but she could not escape.
Music is her therapy.
In one person she trusted
so others she could not speak,
nor tell the thoughts that puzzled her mind.
A blank canvas was her face,
as white as the dress she wore
and all the frills made up for those
locked curls on her head.
They fell as far as her body did
when it left and hovered above.
She wanted to be alone, just once.
Music is her therapy.
This time, the glitter missed her soft lips,
the light did not fade,
the angels failed to protect her.
The mother killed her child the day she lied.
Music was her therapy.