~tinagirl259

In the artists hands the clay moves like butter, In her hands it forms a life of its own. In her heart she knows this life is a part of hers. Its features show clear as day. She molds the form, watches as it breaks through the barrier which is a gray mass. It's the part of herself she could never deny yet tried to suppress. Yet here it was staring right back at her with its slick covered eyes. It's as if her hands gave birth to this magnificent creature. It stands on all four legs, strong and well crafted from the labors of sculpting. An in her mind something spoke like a whisper becoming louder with each stroke she made to the form."I am here, I am alive the part of you that has always been" It was then that the unicorn was born to life.