Head spinning, thoughts whirling, clocks ticking. Running was all there was left to do. Run until the fire's red hue ceased to burn, and turned into a dark blue. Run on without hopes, for the seams had been undone. Run until the bare feet hit pavement covered by the midnight sun, in her majestic grandeur and grace while wishing to console the Earth's wounded child.

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She grips at the root of it all whilst the trees' shadows caress her tremulous body; a futile cry is let out from the holes in her heart.

The lids of innocence have been pried open with the haunting images wandering through the veins of her deep and silenced thoughts. Crumbling noises reverberate around her; frantically she looks about. The walls fighting off the pain cave in… a bead of salty water glides its glistening hands against the juvenile's bronze cheeks. Its hands grip to the surface while leaving its hindering trail behind as proof that there is a suffering out there, one so strong that it squeezes the anguish hidden within and forces it to materialize into a single dreaded tear. One that will soon be gone but will always fill those holes with fear. Oh but no matter how loud your cry is, there will be no one to stop and soothe you because they don't ever hear.

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Review, please? Would be appreciated. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, but do note the constructive part.

What did it make you think of? or what did you picture?

oh and what did 'She grips at the root of it all whilst the trees' shadows caress her tremulous body' mean to you? How do you perceive this sentence?