A dove coos through the sullen night.

The song of the wind howls, it dances, and it twirls.

All to the haunted windows,

and to the curtains that float astray.

The soft melody that just might,

just might quell the unspoken storm in their mind.

The swarming of words, lyrics, stories, and poems that were too meaningful and much too hard to speak of.

Perhaps, just perhaps that melody would make them look pretty, feel pretty in that moment.

And the hell it did.

And so,

the bittersweet symphony wailing their words echoed throughout the halls of a locked room.

And a poet, a writer, a creator, and a child all in one felt complete, 

their masterpiece finally finished.

Oh how the colour red looked perfect as their ink.