The cold skin bearing blood that Ran through me pierced through my veins and my eyes were concealed into slits of potted fools gold. I had my heart close to me as did my thoughts, but my breathe escaped my mouth and air brushed against my guilt, and my sorrow. I felt my chest hang low under the grey sweatshirt that covered my pale skin and I couldn't tell the difference to a level of understanding between reality and dreams... oh wait. My dreams hold something closer then reality to me. A meaning.
YOU ARE READING
Grey is still a color
General FictionCome in, we'll actually don't... I can't see or hear the way you do and the shivers that are sent up my spine come down only to rise again. My name is the exact color of which I see on a perspective level. Greyson Battle. But most battles are not in...
