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Hope. One thing, one simple thing that she wanted. But how naive she was, bold of her to assume that in a world like this there would be any.
Innocent little thing, she experienced things that ruined her, she became a broken dish impossible to repair.
Growing up he was treated like a princess, loved, cherished and taken care of by everyone around her. She was a little blooming flower, in the streets of Chernobyl, the world too big for her; the girl had countless dreams that were all promised to come true: but, you know, promises are meant to be broken and dreams to be crushed. Only going on with life she would discover how all those sweet words spoken to her were just lies covered by flavored cotton candy.
Being the pure girl she was, even when the world failed her she still had faith, but it was the same belief that destroyed her: betrayed by her blood, the soulmates gone, the red string of fate cut off, after all that she was left with nothing. But for her that "nothing" was "something" and that something made her go on; although as time passed by the "something" became "loneliness" so in the end she was left with "emptiness": heart drained, soul gone.
Here she is now on the edge of a cliff looking at the pretty sunset, feeling the wind blow through her hair, listening to the the water hit the rocks below: innocent little thing, the world too cruel for her, never deserved all that pain.
As the tears fall she let's go, flying high, looking one last time at the sky that once she observed with shine in her eyes, she finally gives up going underwater and never coming on surface again.
Oh little blooming flower, too pure for the world.