My pulse is beating hard against my wrists, eager for a kiss with the cold blade; raging to come out and scream to deafen the voices that continues to rip my soul away from my body.
—c.c.
pulse
My pulse is beating hard against my wrists, eager for a kiss with the cold blade; raging to come out and scream to deafen the voices that continues to rip my soul away from my body.
—c.c.