
My silence seemed like abandonment, neglect, angry to you on those days when I asked for a reprieve, a moment to gather, mourn, feel. It
Expressing myself came very naturally, at a very young. In my eyes, everything I wrote was clear and glorious. Until I got to the Eight
A tight spindle on sharp threads wind through every corner of her mind, slicing open ancient wounds–a perpetual pain machine unrelenting. Most would want it