"What happened to her?" Cloe looked upon the poor girl, her arm broken out of her shoulder, a dagger stuck in it. She had a bruised cheek, swollen, and blood covered her dried lips. Her breathing was slow, like she was about to fade away.
"
a poem i wrote for the book
Love will follow you, and the heavy burden of responsibilities will crash; emotions will die, and new ones will be reborn. Death will arise, but life will return.
-im not a professional writer, so i hope you can understand my grammar mistakes-