Sometimes the smile upon my face is a good tool to hide the scars I have deep under, and the sound of laughter which expertly drowns the heavy, silent sobs. The lightening of joyful memories which cloud the dark remains of my heart, and the easy behaviour which can only try to extinguish my dangerous thoughts, which I fear the most.
Who says time heals all?
The time feeds my black soul.
But with time, I've learnt to take pride in my darkness.
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Whispers
Nouvelles[#1 in readbetweenthelines] [Featured in GothicLit Reading List] Some things we don't say. But those thoughts never vanish. They just go a bit deeper and shake up the inner conscience. Hi there, these are some self-composed short stories that might...
