She is bundled up.
Again.
In the reassuring words.
In the promises.
In the magical moments.
In the music.
That describes her feelings so well.
In the puzzles that the games provide.
Where she can loose herself in the pattern.
So easily.
So quickly.
In the warm sweatshirts.
Jackets.
And coats.
She immerses herself in the words she writes.
In the words she reads.
In the words that come out of her mouth.
That form a sweet melody.
To hide.
To hide from all of the cruel words.
The pain.
And the past.
In the warm blankets.
In the small sleeping bags.
She hides.
Bundled up.
She hides.