Brain Food, Chit-chat, The story of a rider

The story of a rider (PT. 2)

 You stole my heart, my soul, my everything. Now I am free.

No, I don’t believe in angels. There are no such things, but if you’ll ask me again, I’ll tell you that I might believe in beasts. They are all around us, can’t you see them ? But the truth is that I was never meant to be a believer.

The only days I could consider myself a believer are those cloudy days, with those thunderstorm. That’s when I know that faeries and beasts are dropping tears over this shattered land. 

 When I was a child, I wanted to become a ballerina. I wanted to dance my life. 

 I dance with the dark beasts of the Hell, sing with grotesque faces and walk with the men of the evil forest. Every Friday night, you can see us at that round table. Pretending.

So she ended up her drink as she looked at the window, waiting for something to happen.

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