When my senses arise to inform me that he is there, I sweat, breathe harshly, and hide—and they laugh at my reaction, but what else is a human supposed to do when a demon is coming after them?
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Bleeding Blue
PoesíaI do not see color anymore. I cannot love no more. I don't think I want to live furthermore. Genre: Poetry
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When my senses arise to inform me that he is there, I sweat, breathe harshly, and hide—and they laugh at my reaction, but what else is a human supposed to do when a demon is coming after them?
