A Storm In The Mid Of Spring

To describe the depth of hatred, had I jumped into the poisonous sea. Found it void and dull and gloomy. It makes me wonder, then what is hatred?

Hatred, the word sounds extremely familiar. My soul resembles it crystal clear. Looking deep into my own soul, I found a tiny little bud awaiting to bloom.

The bud was violet, like royalty. It was deep-rooted in to the floor of my heart. Which I happened to think had become barren and lacked emotions to make it bloom. Yet, with each passing day, I felt the bud bloom. It bloomed and bloomed into the prettiest blossom. It represented the darkness of the night.

It was so pretty that if kept out in open, butterflies would come to wreck it. But what did it represent?

No love had made a blossom bloom this pretty.

It was beautiful, it was gorgeous, it looked liked nature's blessing. It bloomed in my heart, I was the owner. I do believe it is deceiving.

"What is the reason you want to break the engagement for?", Shallot's father, Mr. Thomas Vitale questioned.

"I had seen us as a couple, yet I never found it joyful to hold his hand. Father, if you refuse to grant me my wish, I fear you might lose a daughter."

Shallot's word did not match her expressions. She looked still like she was in love. In love with that man who broke her heart. But she was not a lady to weep about it to anyone.

Her father told her to leave and come back later. Guess his daughter means not a thing to him. Shallot had become used to be devoid of love. How much would it eventually hurt her then?

She was too old to wait for months for her wish to be granted and not very trustful of her faith to keep her patience. If he cares not, then so does she.

...Lilies that wither away with the cold,...

...Words said to make a creature bold,...

...Love that captivated me and kept me on hold,...

...Money that matters more than my tears of gold....

...Curses to those who treated me like a doll,...

...Held my strings and made me play the role,...

...Of a ****** tribute not for the sake of my soul....

Shallot rode a horse across the fields of lavender that her family had owned. It was beside a lake and situated on the outskirts of the town. She loosened her brown hair as the wind flushed by. It was twilight. Pink-orange rays of the sun penetrating the clouds fell down on her face making her look like a fairy.

In her hands she held a purse which contained all the poetry she wrote while she was in love. She then walked near the lake and emptied her purse as the handwritten papers floated on the peaceful surface of the water. She slowly traces the water surface with her finger-tips before jumping into the luce warm water. She submerged herself deeper and deeper until she felt that her breath was taken away.

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