REVENGE A feather floating in the wind she is. Not knowing what will face her, not knowing What she will become. All but left to chance. Now, a sunny sprite dancing in the breeze, With gentle footsteps mingling with the grass, With keen eyes searching for dewy clovers, With melodies in rhythm with the woods. Content, happy, with a curious mind! Yet - storm clouds sent from Hell gather with force, Plunging into darkness those gaping eyes Blinded by talons of fire and frost! That tender soul no more shall thrive, but be Cursed by the wrath of the bird wrought with blades Whose feathers she once plucked and plucked away. - Maryam Kaleem
little dreams of a wild child