Warm hearts have glass feet. Crows mock her hustling of the tragedy that is mankind, yet can't help but sneer at her solidarity content. Humans were built for happiness, but she raked out the gears, the inner-mechanisms and twisted them for just that. Her tears would dry the moment they fell. Smiles stretched pleasantly across her plump cheeks, sometimes for no reason. A song was always on her lips, just waiting to burst out. She took pride in her unruly curls, uneven freckles, and crooked teeth. Warmth radiated from her like freshly-baked chocolate-chip muffins. Laughter escaped her thin lips, regardless of what others thoughts.
And she loved. With the force of sun. Her feet may have been glass, but they were bullet-proof.