I lead a rather quiet life in a small town. It is a town that I love. It is simple, quiet, and relaxing. But it is a town I will leave some day. No matter how much I love this town and most of the people in it, I have to leave. If I stay here, the monotony of such a small, quiet existence will begin to tear me down. It will slowly strip me of my individuality, of the very essence of my being. Day by day, I will become like my mother, and her mother before her, living lives in doomed relationships and bittersweet memories. I refuse to become my mother, as I have already seen my sister begin the transformation. I refuse to let myself be taken over, be dragged down by the simple life. I've got to break free of my overbearing, controlling, drill seargent of a father. I've got to make a life for myself - one seperate from my childhood (or at least what little of a childhood I had). I am determined to be free; to break from the claws of opression. To run from those that are working to quash my fiery spirit. I must unleash the me within - the me that's hidden beneath the mask since the dawn of my time. I must break out, become the me I'm meant to be - the me that will lead my soul into eternity. . .
Summary: A Somewhat angsty account of Draco's sacrifice for the woman he loves. Told from his perspective.
Summary: This is just a poem I wrote from Hermione's perspective. I'll let you decide who she's adressing, because I think it's more interesting that way and I'm curious as to who you'll come up with.