Endings Are BeginningsShe sat on a broken rail. The shadows from an unkempt lantern splayed over her like grabbing hands. The rail was old and rusted. Its gross auburn color took over the once shiny, bright silver. The bolts were tight in the odd angles age had given them. There was no sky above her head. Only arching, aging concrete that blocked her sobbing cries a long while ago from being heard by comforting ears.More Like This
Bare feet were callused heavily, and scars of cuts unattended too littered her legs and arms. Grime had its place too on her haggard clothing, and the girl's once kind face. In her hands she held something broken, something she had tried to sow and mend herself, with no knowledge of how to do so. The patchwork was horrible, but it was the best she could do to stop the bleeding.
Her heart lay limp in her small, hard hands. It needed warmth that she couldn't give, not anymore. The stitches were too far apart, for it let the organ seep when the remnants of what was left needed to be kept safe and