Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Fangorn’s vines danced happily in mid-air, excited and content, with the notions of the meat, immediately snagging the piece thereafter. Noisily grumbling and stuffing it into his mouth, Melita couldn’t help but laugh, despite having seen similar nuances throughout each and every day. “Thank you,” she murmured once more to Darkeye as he handed her the potato, and she continued to wait on the rest of the remnants. She grabbed one of her many knives, this one from a wrapping around her shin, and cut it into a smaller portion before biting down.
“Oh,” she uttered again, looking around. While the honeybee enjoyed the environment, the atmosphere, she was partial to movement and motion – a restless energy always stored in her limbs. “I don’t take many breaks,” she giggled; a perfectly obvious statement to make.
“Oh,” she uttered again, looking around. While the honeybee enjoyed the environment, the atmosphere, she was partial to movement and motion – a restless energy always stored in her limbs. “I don’t take many breaks,” she giggled; a perfectly obvious statement to make.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
