wistfulHeart

a child sat on top of the grass one day, their amulet beside them laid. the day was cold, it felt old, and they wanted to say, "I wish I hadn't been born this way." with a shiver, up they sat, and with a sigh, laid their back once more against the grass. the wind was cold- it was thick!- but of the day, they were not sick- for they wished to prolong it more. and so once more they laid again closed their eyes and count to ten and dreamt of a world where they were right again.