Shaku-the-Vendialor

 Once, there was a child... This child was as simple of mind as any other. She was not biased by experience. She was not burdened by worry or care. She had only a blank canvas, and some paint. She tried many things. Many ideas flowed through her mind as to how to put paint to canvas. Yet, be it flicking, splattering, daubbing or stroking, none of her efforts yielded what she hoped for. Shapeless blotches were not enough. They held no meaning. What did she want? What was she trying to create? She had never thought about it. Should it be happy? Sad? Comforting? Frightening? Did she want something peaceful? Or was chaos a better choice? Sh

Bump, bump, bump, CRACK! The sound of a breaking heart. Crying, I call out for you, I fear we'll forever be apart. The shards fall to the bottom, I gather them up again, Trying to put them together, I can't focus for the pain. I finally fit them together, But it doesn't beat quite right, I search for missing pieces, through darknes worse than night I look on the floor, the walls, and shelf, I see a picture of you and some glue, I think for a moment then finally decide, "Why not add a memory or two?" I take the time we spent the day rescuing ants from drowning in the rain, The day you fell and hurt your knee, and I comforted