She was dangerous. Her skills unmatched, her heart cold, her appearance innocent. She was beautiful, and if you kissed her, she would kill you. She belonged to no man, she belonged to herself. She was the angel of suffering. She was her mother's daughter. She was a Romanoff. ____________________________________ There was nothing poetic about victory. All this blood was never more than just red. But if we can turn hell into heaven, and spin murder into beauty, Then for even a moment We might be able to catch our breath, and breathe without the weight of a thousand corpses on our chests. ____________________________________ Innocence died screaming. honey, ask me I should know. I was i n n o c e n t once too. ____________________________________ She is strong but she is a child she is a child she is a child take the world off her shoulders children should not have to fight to be young ____________________________________ DON'T WORRY M O T H E R YOUR DAUGHTER IS A SOLDIER ____________________________________ 8 in #barton 8/15/19
38 parts