This is a poem, written by a character I created in a story, who talks about discovering that she was different: that she could do magic. The short poem speaks about people’s treatment of her knowing that she could use magic.


I woke of one day and found I could smell,

The flowers of heaven and the fires of hell.

I played with my power, alone in the knell,

Some boys came and taunted me and I slipped and I fell.

When you raise a shovel and start digging wells,

You should end up with water,

But not water that wells,

In the eyes on a person or a bruise that swells.

Any dog may triumph given that which quells,

The thirst in their spirit,

Rather than the stuff that sells.

When will they learn?

Psychological tactics are the most powerful spells.


-Gwin’iselle ser Bri’are.

(Louella Mahabir: 29th. May, 2012)

PS: I myself am wondering how long this story is going to be!


~ by louella001 on May 29, 2012.

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