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she was the little girl who painted sunsets and rainstorms. she heard music where no one was listening. she saw beauty in shattered glass and weeping trees and rain on asphalt, shining like silver, and she hated the sight of the sun. she was the little girl that nobody talked to, the one that dreamed of flying, but felt like a butterfly with its wings plucked off.

she was the little girl who knew black eyes and the smell of alcohol. she knew all the best places to hide when mommy came home drunk and angry and just waiting to beat her with words and fists and hatred. she knew bruised bodies and broken hearts better than she knew pretty dresses and tea parties.
©2009 ~KestrelAspen
:iconkestrelaspen:

Author's Comments

not finished yet. probably never will be finished.
this is me being angry at my mom.

title is obviously from Pat Benatar...not from me

Comments


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:iconlosingmyfaith:
this is well written, hopefully you finish it (:

--
" ...he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."
:iconkestrelaspen:
thank you! (:
i hope i can finish it too

--
"painted skies, i've seen so many that cannot compare to your ocean eyes. the pictures you took that covered your room, and it was just like the sun but more like the moon..."

*project-improve
:iconsoftsilhouettes:
the first paragraph is so much like myself. :heart:
:iconkestrelaspen:
awwww...that's adorable...i'm really glad you're like the first paragraph and not the second paragraph!
the second one is really sad to me...
:heart:

--
"painted skies, i've seen so many that cannot compare to your ocean eyes. the pictures you took that covered your room, and it was just like the sun but more like the moon..."

*project-improve
:iconlosingmyfaith:
you're most welcome! (:

--
" ...he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."
:iconsoftsilhouettes:
yeah.. i don't know.. it doesn't really fit to be honest, it goes from the girl seeing such ordinairy, yet sad things in a beautiful way, to her having hardships with her mom idk.
:iconkestrelaspen:
yeah...it's not really finished/it's not really supposed to fit...i wrote this a while ago on a really really awful day

--
"painted skies, i've seen so many that cannot compare to your ocean eyes. the pictures you took that covered your room, and it was just like the sun but more like the moon..."

*project-improve
:iconkestrelaspen:
(:
yeah...i'll probably scrap it

--
"painted skies, i've seen so many that cannot compare to your ocean eyes. the pictures you took that covered your room, and it was just like the sun but more like the moon..."

*project-improve

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October 30
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