Written by Ashwita Angeline
She learned too soon that nothing is what it seems,
so she sought escape within her dreams. In her dreams, as
people do, she captured her sorrows and bound them tight and then
she flew. In her dreams she learned to write and read and speak with all
her might. In her dreams, she knew that people would hear when she stood
up and walked and talked without fear. In her dreams, she would fall asleep,
no whispers or shouts or monsters too strong, and within that slumber, she
dreamed of all she would reap. In her dreams, she knew the edge of a blade,
the sharp of an axe, the blunt of a blow, the smell of crimson blood long
after it ceased to flow. In her dreams, she saw the rain, cold and sweet
and killing her pain. She dreamed and dreamed and then she woke
in a dark hour on a misty night stepped out of her door into a
relentless shower thinking all the while of her dreamer’s
sight; wrestled against the wind with a feeble body’s
power sobbing and screaming loud and silent, a
violent woman on a lonely prowl. She walked
and walked as she dreamed and dreamed,
sounds of anguish welcomed into a
pitch black world. Long moments
later she slipped away for the
while out of sight and
forever out of
her mind.
The manipulation of structure to show her own structure is incredible. Great post!
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Thanks for the post! 🙂
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🙂
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words are epic thou more i liked the way u presented it..
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Love it
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Dark
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