Her hair flew up like tendrils of smoke.
It was a windy day.
She stood there,
and looked down on everything.
She inhaled.
And closed her eyes.
Everything was quiet in her,
for once.
And she took a deep breath,
her last,
and jumped.
And everthing was quiet.
demons
De -aesthete-
I want to be beautiful, too. -M.R c.2015 *** a/n: this book is about two years old now. it's some of my old w... Mai multe