Little droplets of an unknown region bestowed upon me. Sacred cries furrowed through a widowed mother's need, singing a lullaby along a sage tree. She closed her eyes, at this spot smiling as she graved with the tree. She left a child unfurnished of this world along the riverside of her abode, where the child became broke to another eye's feed—leaving the shore to the land bringing her tears rolling back. Levered heartaches, scarred bands, mysteries uncovered by her hands, breaking the truths as she fought through the wounds. But sooner or later her grits broke loose there and rested upon the grave of her mother's bloom. The rumors spread like an arrow gliding through the air, as the speculation of the woman's death came afloat, leading the arrow to shoot right by its bullseye. Historied never loses its ties as generations stay alive. So through the fight of her wounds out through her womb, she gave birth to a small child trolling the hopeful giving faith as hers. Too bad the river split as time brought, and down went the child another route. The funny thing is the child grew up with a brittle thorn. Yet somehow here she is writing this song locked up in this cell. This may be this id the start of the un-typical story to tell.
Hey so to people who are gonna read this umm.......
i'm basically an amature writer so yeah this is just the porlogu i wrote the draft in a seprate book so .... i don't if gonna continue on it. cause i have no idea what to write so if you want pls give ideas and feedback of how to write better i guess. BYE
