She knew she was about to leave everything behind as she ran into the sheltered arms of dawn, breathing in the comforting air of the unknown. In that moment, everything she owned was worth nothing but the overwhelming hope for a better future was enough to give up all she had.
Day after day she slowly removed her old skin marked by the scars of her past and put on a new skin
adorned with the feeling of pretended happiness.
How naive of her to believe that a skin, which is not more than a hollow mask, could ever hide the bruises of her soul.

There is a snow-white dress lying in her bottom drawer. A raiment that holds all the memories of her past.
The dress has been forgotten, pushed back into the furthest corners of her consciousness.
She clings to the velvet fabric blinded by the white shades of innocence and vulnerability. It is an inevitable certainity that she needs to face her past. A past full of moments she desperately tried to forget. And as she slowly puts on the snow-white dress, she climbs back into her old skin again.
She closes her eyelids as the weight of the world covers her and surrounds her with the presence of her old self. Thousands of images occur in a split second, images that are more than blurry captures of forgotton memories. The smell of melancholy climbs up her nose while she hides her face in the depths of fabric. The comforting touch leaves the scars of disappointment and forgiving. The images fade and leave behind a dismal darkness, a thoughtful silence. She opens her eyes and blinding light surrounds her pupils.
And she whispers forgotten lullabies, knowing that those words shouldn't leave her lips.
But for her it is the only way to let the scars on her skin heal.