I shrug, rolling my bad shoulder. "I know." I said weakly, my bones aching. "But you still need to be careful. That healing doesn't heal your insides that well. Only partial. That's why she couldn't heal my arm."
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
What is a poet? An unhappy person who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music. — Søren Kierkegaard, Philosopher & Theologian
