There once was a little girl who never cried, not after she was born and checked with normal breathing ability atleast.She didn't cry when she got her 1st hair cut, she didn't cry when she 1st fell down, she didn't cry even when blood was trickling down her knees, neither did she cry when she was hit by a batch of gangster kids.But one day she cried... and she cried.. not for a sweet, not for a candy, for her mother hit her...
"But I didn't!" she cried. "It's not with me!"
whips of the cane, like a butcher's knife, hit her not on the hand. But on her heart. The hand went numb. The whips didn't hurt anymore. But the pain just kept working. She looked at her mother straight in the eye. Fuming with rage, lit with anger. She looked up at her from her small corner. She could feel her eyes like a breaking dam. This sadness, this rage. 'Can't you even believe your own daughter?!' She managed to find strength from her trembling hands, and scarred body, her legs still weak from the caning. She ran, straight out of the door, she had no idea where she wanted to go. She had no idea what she wanted to do. She simply ran, all she planned was to run, run out of this pain. Run away from this pain she had nv felt before in her life.
The muscles tensed, still slightly anaesthetised from the earlier event, but not tired, or atleast she didn't feel they were. And then she felt it.. this weakness..
She fell. On her knees, then laid on the ground. Her heart still pounding. Her breathe fast paced, but still deep. She wept, she can no longer hold her tears, the sharp pain in her chest has collapsed the dam in her heart. This pain, this anger.
She looked up in the skies. The stars were shining as usual. Just then, she saw a falling star. She felt it. And her heart died.
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