I can paint trees you can hear bend in the wind with the flick of my brush.
I can draw mountains you can only dream of climbing with the drag of a pen.
But my fingers stumble on letters and my lips quiver with words. Everyone expects me to be perfect, preaching to a choir like it's a fact - but I, like humans, make mistakes. I'm sorry.

- Sincerely
GØĐ
  • Gehenna
  • JoinedJune 6, 2017


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Story by Hugh Gnowes
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