She walks on a tightrope. Her arms stretched out, waiting to slip. Every word he spoke, another gust of wind to threatening her fall. Words are the weapons of the sick and more potent than the sword. Wounds may heal, but the rotting soul can cause a lifetime of misery.
confessionsofpassion 1 Minute
Published by confessionsofpassion
I enjoy fictional writing, and creating fantasies in my head. It's a dark place in there, and sometimes, I even scare myself. Find me on discord @ Gypsy Soul#1108 View all posts by confessionsofpassion