She was nice.
So uselessly nice.

“Papa, did you ever go into the attic to retrieve the decorations like I asked?” Linda’s voice cut through the hallway again, sharp enough to poke a hole through my last bit of peace. I rolled my eyes. How many times was she going to nag me about those damn decorations? 

The morning dew is,
Easy to catch.
It was welcoming and refreshing, 
Yet now it hurts. 
You’re old enough now to be free,
Yet the fences buzz.
But, what’s out there,
For you?

Tears are expected,
Like rain though the sun shines.
Not of sadness, but gladness because,
We see your face.

When I say “no” I mean that 
Why do I have to repeat what I say? 
Why is this world so nasty, 
Why do men always want their way? 

Whilst strolling cross the alley
I saw a wilted tree
It’s roots and stems, they’ve sprouted
But unrested like me

*clop* *clop* *clop*

The sound of numerous horse hooves trotting along a dirt path could be heard among the many other sounds of village life. Among the mundane ambience of the village various merchants could be spotted advertising their wares which ranged from weapons, oil, healing elixirs, herbs and many more lucrative items stored away in the pack mules residing behind their owner. However of the countless merchants lining the sides of the street one stood out the most.