They stared at the girl with the lock necklace.
She sat at the far corner of the classroom.
The beholder of the key lied peacefully under the grave..
on top of which his favourite flowers always bloomed.
YOU ARE READING
Dead Ends
PoetrySometimes it's not about the end. It's just about the story. A collection of four liners that I wrote which didn't have the oh-so-perfect endings. Well because life doesn't offer each and everyone the fairytale endings they grew up listening to.
