Beads of sweat form on my fatigued face.
Cloth covers me head to toe. I am the epitome of dread. My eyes burn through the ragged fabric through which I gaze. But underneath this raggedy robe, stands a woman who- if ever given the slightest chance- can rise up as a bird soaring through the bombed skies! She can rip off the cloth, drenched in sweat, and become more than she ever was …or ever will be. But given this endless, bitter, silent war, there is limits. I must not break those limits. I must not break those boundaries. No matter how much I want to or how much I try victory is far from my grasp.
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