a short story about meself 

Her face is hidden, her clothes covered almost every inch of her body and yet what is sadly invisible is whats going on in her mind. The old fashion feminist she is is not seen from the outside. 

You catch a glimpse of her black outlined eyes, small and tired, but tired only from a good nights sleep filled with magical thoughts. Her hands, quite delicate show signs of use, signs of pens marks and charcoal, indicating her artistic self, no one really is aware of. 

This young woman, protective of herself and of others, rarely ever noticed, has the spirit of a tiger, the life of the ocean on a stormy day, and the visibility of an owl, rarely ever seen. 

:) @silver-sparrow
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