She crossed the road, dancing with the wind, high heels in her hands and alcohol on her lips
She passed by the street corner where the crazy man sat, next on an empty bottle of cheap red wine.
He told her,
She wasn't human
Not now Not anymore
Something was stolen from her
She never knew
Somehow they got to her head
Somehow they crept under her skin
To find all her weak spots
And turn her into a machine
YOU ARE READING
A Metallic Death
القصة القصيرة- Metal, metal don't you hurt this rose petal. To late. It's already dead -
