Her fingers danced
across the piano keys.
They flew up and down
the neck of the violin.
She pulled a bow
across the deep strings of the cello.
They slid along
the fingerboard of the guitar.

Her hand held a pencil
which glided over the paper,
writing poems –
writing stories –
writing music.
She wrote what came to her mind –
what she felt in her heart –
what the world had thrown onto her.

She underestimates herself.
She doubted her power and what she could do.
She hated her poetry.
She was considering burning her stories at one point.
She despised her music.
No matter what anyone said.
No matter how beautiful
it truly was…

One morning, everything was white.
Snow filled the world around her.
Such beauty inspired her.
She pulled out a pencil and paper
as she began to write poetry.
She fell in love with the crystal
snowflakes that fell through
the frosty air.

For full effect of this wintry scene,
she bundled up to brave the harsh cold.
She brought her writing outside to finish.
Little did she know, but the
cheerleaders thought it would be
funny to play a little joke
on her –
a cruel joke.

"Hey, Sakura!" they screamed out to her.
Sakura was sitting on her front porch,
deeply into her poetry.
She looked up to face the cheerleaders.
"Merry Christmas!"
They threw bunches of snowballs
at her,
burying her into the snow.

Sakura ran inside, soaking wet and freezing cold.
She despised the cheerleaders and their jock boyfriends.
They were cruel and mean.
Sakura's poem was ruined –
destroyed.
She cried from anger and the pain of being hurt – again.
Why would anyone be so mean to Sakura –
the artist – the writer?