When the voice was stolen and she could sing no more, the frown formed and the lines found solace on her face. In her silence, it defended her. A world where hostility determines if youâre victimised and sheâd rather be the victor. So she put it on each morning. After all, you cannot report expressions but you can recall words. Yet we all know that frowning is not precaution and smiling is not softness. If only she didnât hold onto yesterdayâs worries which are drawing the outline of tomorrow. The scowl she wears wouldnât be a testament of her sorrow.
Hannah Williams 
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