The door is creaking.
The wind howling.
But no-one comes.
Dreams shattered.
A runaway child and a dead mother walk together.
Their dreams gone.
All that lies ahead is a rope.
To die is to truly be with her agian.
Showing posts with label hazel lessiter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hazel lessiter. Show all posts
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
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