Death is like a ravine when dried up it's gone or a rose when it withers and fades it's unrelenting. The flow of loss grows like the flowers in a garden or a fire ever burning releasing heat until cold the warmth is gone and only cold remains that's death but everything must end eventually right.
ns 172.70.100.222da2Search stories, writers or societies
Continue ReadingClear All
What Others Are ReadingRefresh
×
Write down what you like about the story