Fired up with passion, each word that pursed through her lips amazed her. They listened cautiously, marking the details. Though vague, the details were valuable and served at its maximum. Each generous ears opened up hope, leading ways for repentance and amendments. She juggled her dying prospect as it lifted off the ground. Their credibility challenged her once again.
The thoughts cheered her. Their anxiety was presumably resolved - none of her concern. She acclaimed their efforts, but such witness was short-lived.
Her heart was confused - some made her laugh, yet bore loud evidence of their nonchalant efforts. Words were shrugged off at their shoulders, as if who cares. Each lines rocked her patience. She was threatened to respond brutally. Her imaginative hands were fast equipped with a rattan. She could slash at any moment.
How should i do? Abuse with these autocratic hands of mine? She surmounted her anger with questions and subdued to disappointment. All wicked intentions did not brief the definition of her career. Her labour was built upon an aristocratic aspiration, of hope and of love. Don't make a monster out from me.
I don't hunt; i nurture.
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