She wishes that she was a white crayon, because then, no one would use her.
She sat there wasting away wishing someone would come and save her from this horrid place that God loves.
Writing is her escape, and music is her freedom from this living hell.
There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton
- In the place to where I shall commit
- JoinedDecember 9, 2015