Something from a very confused and a very aggressive me.
I see a girl standing erect, head high, hair open, long and roughly combed. She has gripped her sides of the dress tightly, way too tightly. Her toes are clinching the floor, scratching it. Her hair hides the corner of her face.
She is fair, a small mark on her right cheek, though not visible. But her fair skin is turning pink and slowly red; red with anger, red with rage.
She has a fluffy and sharp eyebrow. Just as it was suppose to be, giving her eyes a beautiful and lustrous look. Her eyes, big and wide, hazel brown in color; cute yet cunning, bold yet beautiful, shy yet audacious, talkative and yet tight lipped.
Her eyes speak a lot; tells me about her anger, about her grief. Slowly her eyes too have only one color and that is red. I see controlled tears in her eyes now.
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