Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
To Melita’s credit, sometimes patience helped. But she didn’t often try it – opting for immediate justification in vehemence, weaponry, and bold tactics. In most instances, they hadn’t steered her wrong. A shoot first, ask questions later approach to life.
So she sighed at Darkeye’s comments, figuring they were true, before adhering to the tasks. Preparing the discs getting them acclimated and ready, pondering over the bright hues, or the notions of trying again. Maybe the honeybee wanted them done right the very first time.
Her eyes went back to the fire, noticing the changing and blending of colors. “Oh, they’re white!” She snagged at what she needed, excitement pulsing at her fingers and movements.
So she sighed at Darkeye’s comments, figuring they were true, before adhering to the tasks. Preparing the discs getting them acclimated and ready, pondering over the bright hues, or the notions of trying again. Maybe the honeybee wanted them done right the very first time.
Her eyes went back to the fire, noticing the changing and blending of colors. “Oh, they’re white!” She snagged at what she needed, excitement pulsing at her fingers and movements.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
