in which a girl indirectly shares her dying hope
in t w e n t y words
~
The fire in her eyes had long diminished,
and her scars had long unravelled,
but the only remnant
she dared to share,
of her battered mind,
was kept in the braided
breaths and unconscious
cognitive activity,
of her shaking fingers.
[All Rights Reserved @FallingFeather]
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A girl without a voice. A girl without a choice. A girl who must come to learn to live again after tragedy takes away a piece of her.
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//a piece of fiction//prose poem fiction //trying something new//maybe poetry?