She darted into the Forrest, without a care. Her hair was a mess and tangled threw the air. The wind blew violently as she shed her last tears. Rain poured from the thunderclouds that washed away all of her fears. She grew cold and unclosed from the place that she had called home. No longer will there be expression; Her face, still; No twitch of a Smucker not even a smile, nor a settle movement from this "bad child." So I'll gather up my non-quality traits of which I hide behind my stiffened face; I'll reel myself out of your dreaded sole and claim mine as my own.
