Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)

by Raven Kennedy

Dear John was a yawn But his trousers hung tight, So the frills would all smile And ask him home for a night, But poor frills, how they trilled— For it was only a pocket of pipe.

Violence sang inside my chest, like a bird of prey lilting as it circled, ready to dive for the kill.

And yet, even though that beast is once again silent, I can still feel it there, watching. Some untapped creature ready to rise up.

Shove down weakness, and strength will rise.

Why is it that a man can make you feel like nothing, when you have given him everything?

Same shit, different castle.

There comes a point in your life when you have to choose between having regrets and the possibility of making mistakes.

I’d rather make those mistakes than

Shove down weakness and strength will rise.