Behind her raven hair and jewelled eyes there layed pain and suffering from a life which no one knew. The life of darkness concealed by the soft touch of wool on her pale milk skin. But when lifted she bared the mark of many. The cry for help. The torture of her mind in physical form.
YOU ARE READING
Riddles of a destroyed mind
PoetryHave you ever just wrote what had come into your mind? The renditions of twisted thoughts on paper.
