The composer, begins with the melody of a child that comes from a rough family. It’s soft and gentle just like she is. Its harmonic like her voice is. This melody stops! It competes with the powerful, already composed, piece made with the instruments of curse words, and angry words, and bitter words of hate. She covers her ears and meditates on what is next for her to orchestrate. The gears in her mind rotate and spin and the music begins to play again. Strum the bass’s low sounds, with the low hum of her heart beat. A strum and a beat, a strum and a beat. With her heart beat aligned, she adds the soft notes of the violin with each step she takes as her life begins. As the bow caresses each string of the violin, she takes gentle steps through the years of her life. She gracefully plays her actions as a piano would allow it’s keys to be played. As an adolescent, her composition grows and is no longer an innocent mirthful and allegro composition of an array of flutes and clarinets, but a steady and lento harmony of violas and violins that pursued her as her elegant steps took her. As she aged, her melody progressed to a blissful and sensual arrangement of trumpets and clarinets. Lastly, at her funeral played an elegy of sad sounding flutes playing the death march, with which her soul soared through the hallelujahs.