Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.
Am I the girl/ Whose giggle crinkles her big eyes/ Or the woman whose small eyes/ Crinkle her vision?
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Am I the girl/ Whose giggle crinkles her big eyes/ Or the woman whose small eyes/ Crinkle her vision?
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I was crying for the little girl I had been, who had withstood terrifying nightmares of death and blood and war and maiming. And when I had tried to share those horrors, the shock on my friends' faces had told me I was not normal, and I should keep my dreams to myself.
Have you ever stopped to consider the number of choices you make daily Paradoxically speaking, every time you have a choice to make and you don't make it, by default, you are making a choice not to make a choice, which is, of course, a choice. You have no choice in the matter. This is an important question because the more conscious you are about your choices, the more likely it is you will end up where you want to be at the end of your stay on this planet.
When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
Evil draws its power from indecision and concern for what other people think.
Jez had gone from an evil twin to a sweet, even angelic, girl, all in less than a minute.