Withering Pages of Love
This is my hour. My moment. When the world goes numb in misery, I wake up to tell stories of grief. They are the sad kinds, ones that are bound to leave imprints upon dried cheeks. This is my time. I croon and rant it away.
This is my hour. My moment. When the world goes numb in misery, I wake up to tell stories of grief. They are the sad kinds, ones that are bound to leave imprints upon dried cheeks. This is my time. I croon and rant it away.