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Writer's Block: My Secret Identity
Apr. 7th, 2008 11:47 am[Error: unknown template qotd] The possessed poet, for whom everything becomes verse, every thought is expressed in poetry as well as prose, whether out loud, on paper, or only in her mind.
The broken doll, the little girl who was destroyed from the inside out and had to learn to put herself back together again. The one who didn't speak until she was four years old, but could read, use weapons, and steal before that. The invalid, the victim, the beggar, the thief, the genius,the survivor.
The haunted house, full of mourning for a lost love, lost friends, lost innocence... the woman who has flashbacks all the time and sometimes can't be touched. The one who walked in to see her first love's brains splattered on a wall, and still wears a necklace he gave her twelve years later.
The fool, who bumbles everything, falls all over herself, crushes on anyone who shows wit, cries every time she sees her ex-girlfriend, and offers pieces of her heart readily to anyone who shows her kindness.
The warrior, the priestess of the Morrigan, the girl who at 15 years old faced down a man with a gun to protect people who were virtually strangers to her, who has thrown herself between the abuser and the victim more times than she can count. The one who is determined to see no one suffer as she has suffered, as long as she is around to stop it.
Erm, an apology for those on my friend's list who really don't care to read my random personal stuff, or my PTSD-fueled rants.
The broken doll, the little girl who was destroyed from the inside out and had to learn to put herself back together again. The one who didn't speak until she was four years old, but could read, use weapons, and steal before that. The invalid, the victim, the beggar, the thief, the genius,the survivor.
The haunted house, full of mourning for a lost love, lost friends, lost innocence... the woman who has flashbacks all the time and sometimes can't be touched. The one who walked in to see her first love's brains splattered on a wall, and still wears a necklace he gave her twelve years later.
The fool, who bumbles everything, falls all over herself, crushes on anyone who shows wit, cries every time she sees her ex-girlfriend, and offers pieces of her heart readily to anyone who shows her kindness.
The warrior, the priestess of the Morrigan, the girl who at 15 years old faced down a man with a gun to protect people who were virtually strangers to her, who has thrown herself between the abuser and the victim more times than she can count. The one who is determined to see no one suffer as she has suffered, as long as she is around to stop it.
Erm, an apology for those on my friend's list who really don't care to read my random personal stuff, or my PTSD-fueled rants.
