I could write a poem telling this story, but I stopped writing verses since I left my extremely emotional age of falling in love too fast and giving my heart to every insignificant life event. My poems always turned out gothically gloomy and downbeat, like every time I rhymed, a dark cloud was hanging above me. I was under the influence of Amy Lee and Ville Valo. A bad company for a teenager mind.
I could paint a picture but this pathetic attempt to express the important, will only assure you how disastrous my talent of an artist is. I'm good only at drawing cucumbers and daisies. Even better with schematic cartoon mushrooms. I draw only by pencil because I love to erase and find very philosophic the tool that was brought into existence to create and destroy.
I could glorify the heroes in a song. But well... You don't want to hear me singing. My singing is counted by my close friends as assassination. They suggest me becoming a hitman carrying my song as a weapon. I could be the best.
As you can see, I don't have many options but write it down.
So let's begin.
YOU ARE READING
Thunderstorm
FantasyShe needs to forget everything to be indeed lost. He must break the promise to fulfill it. Together, athwart the fate, they will unite or be destroyed. But first, she has to remember.
