What Are The Best Sadness Pictures For Artists?

The white rose lay on the floor dripping with blood. A small,shiny blade lay beside it. A beautiful object in such a terrible and painful condition. The blood stain on it did not hide it's immaculate and beautiful nature. She puffed smoke in the air and took a sip of the liquor beside her,as she glared at the bleeding rose with sad and anguish filled eyes,it told a lot about her and her agony. She was as beautiful as the rose in front of her. She took out an envelope containing different photos of different people in it,she stared at the image with a mixture of rage and disgust. “Revenge!!!“ She yelled as she fell to the ground crying” “I'll not sleep,I'll not rest until you all are dead!!”

My mother was the best portrait artist in the police station. She had a strong sense of justice and brooked no evil. However, all I got was a sharp retort when I called her to save me. "You know it's your sister's coming-of-age celebration today, and you're cursing her? Kidnapped, are you? Fine, the kidnappers can kill you for all I care." She assumed it was a prank call. So, she refused to go to the police station and do her job. I wasn't saved in time and was tortured to death. When the DNA report came out, she came to the scene all wobbly. She drew a portrait of me with my bones as reference, her hand trembling all the way. "Jessica? It can't be her. This is a mistake!" She tried again and again. Yet, it didn't matter how many times she redid it as the portrait showed my face. My mother, who had hated me my whole life, teared up.

Extract. " Why are you here?" She asked, staring out the window. She has refused to face him since he entered the room, treating him as if he were a ghost. She was a ghost to everyone but not to him and she wondered why. " Came to see you. Did I come at a bad time?" He asked. With a crooked sigh, she finally turned to face him, revealing a tear streaked face. Anger rose in him. Moving towards him, she muttered through gritted teeth. " Every time is a bad time Ray, don't you understand that?" " I understand if you're angry, I can always come see you tomorrow..." She cut him off. " I don't want you to come see me tomorrow or the day after that! I need you to leave me alone! Stop trying to help me Ray, we both know it's not going to work. I wonder why you even bother. Just go away!" " Why do you keep pushing me away?! I want to help you, why won't you let me?" " Because it's of no use. No one can help me Ray, not even you. And you trying is going to hurt the both of us! Even more than we can ever imagine." She spat, tears clouding in her eyes again. She was always crying and frowning. Never smiled. He never thought she knew what it felt like to smile. " But I love you! I freaking do! Why can't you understand and let me stay?" He yelled, shaking her, tears forming in his eyes at the one girl he loved but keeps pushing him away. " Then hate me. If you truly love me Ray... You would hate me." She growled, staring deep into his eyes. Giving him a choice, to hate or love her...

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.

Loathefiya 's life turns miserably after viewing the death of her beloved mother and forever disappearing of her father. As her life turns darker, two couples rescues and adapte her in their own life. Getting along with different people how will the girl find the taste of happiness that was dragged away from her?. Will the flowing sadness take it's turn?

a story of a love triangle with a touch of soreness. a story of Spanish- Indian girl living in states. her life revolves around her dad and her best friend Josh and Joshua. Josh's younger brother, Joshua is kind of dark horse of his house, a rebel kind of teen who has a secret. his connection with Babi is different. see what future holds for three and what is written Babi's destiny or lets see if she makes her own destiny.