i'm not really sure what this is supposed to be.
it's sort of poetry
it's sort of short stories
it's sort of insignificant
but it's sort of really important.
i guess what it is, depends on who you are.
we're all just living in glass houses, throwing stones
rebelling against whatever it is that we feel to be certain.
a/n:
THIS BOOK IS IN NO WAY AFFILIATED WITH THE ONE DIRECTION "troublesome times" INDEPENDENT SERIES.
let us chronicle my descent into madness, shall we?
YOU ARE READING
the shepherd's sword
Random[the things we dare not say aloud] the walls have faces, you know. the angels do not.
