Magic they say lies in ones own soul. It finds it's way into ones depths and roots itself. It springs to life through the land of passions and never does it die or fade away. Magic to Scar meant everything. Her green eyes reminding one of the forest. Her lilt movements reminding one of the ocean. Her petite form always captivated attention. She was not a warrior but a fiery red headed witch. Healing was her strength and yet she was called Scar. She was a wanderer, always searching to give herself to others. Her services were free and selfless. And yet she felt so empty on the inside. There was a part of her that always yearned for something. Longing to be filled yet she ignored it, never tending to her own needs. She was but a fire. By burning herself she gave warmth to others. And ruined those who tried to get too close or demanded too much. She was but a fallen angel and yet so high above the heavenly ones.
-©Pratibha Badgal AA
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Do let me Know. Thank you for reading. Much love.
-PB
