I remember saying before that counting sheep has not been helping me as much.
One sheep, two sheep
And yet I fallen to no sleep.
Maybe there is something else I can do, somewhere else I can go.
A shepherd never seemed to be fitting for me. And seeing it all in black and white was frowned upon.
She took pictures of the world outside, who tried so hard to harm her. She made outlines of new, random people that will never exist in reality. She was lost in a fanasty.
But fanasty is where she belonged. Seeing dragons, fairies, magic, ghosts...
It was normal for her to see it in her mind, no matter how crazy she looked.
What will she do in this reality if she will no longer be Counting Sheep?
She gazed across the river to see wonderful flowers planted. 'That's it. My days of being a shepherd is over...
'From now on, I will try to be a gardener.'
A/N- Second book, Picking Flowers, is up. I'm surprised I pre-wrote a ending to my own rant book. I wonder why I did that?
What do you think of me, seeing only these thoughts? Picking Flowers is going to be based on the brighter side of things, instead of all my problems. Maybe that will cheer me up? Maybe it won't? Who knows, who cares?
YOU ARE READING
Counting Sheep
Teen FictionOne sheep, two sheep, This is not helping at all. Three sheep, four- Someone kill me, I must snoop this low. Five sheep, six sheep, I feel tired, but the waters still flow. Seven sheep, eight she- It looks like the sheep hit a wall. I guess eight sh...
