Inside of Me
Thirteen and longing for my independence day,
I sit here wishing my life away.
I’m restless and wild,
Still being just a child.
The rose that I will be,
Still grows inside of me.
The buds have not blossomed,
The flower has not bloomed.
Will this ugly little thing,
Ever become something?
Will she ever be,
Anything worth living for?
I feel restless and wild,
Still being just a child.
And the wild rose that I will be,
Still grows inside of me.
The Dead Marshes.
The dead marhes through the eyes of a child who witnessed it. Though it may be your initial reponse, please keep in mind that it is not based off any real characture from Lord of the Rings. I made this one all up. Please comment.
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