It was a night of cold yet comforting winter, for it was far away from where I could find a recognizable face, I sat down with nothing more but a withering rose in my hand and a withered heart in my chest, which continued to beat in hopes of finding the warmth of sun someday.
But the only warm thing to me was the tears trickling down my ice-cold skin, in the memories of my most beloved person, my mother. Every moment I ever spent with her flashed by, that night, I really hoped for someone to sit beside me, to comfort the crying child inside of me, but I guess life is not like a romantic love drama. At any point, it's only you, who you truly have.
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memory
Misterio / Suspensowhat do you think it feels like to witness a murder.. .... to see the face of who did it, To be locked up in cell to actually be told that it is all in your mind? To never be believed in??
