
The Shot each line on her face is a story of war, each crease tells of battles fought and lost, wounds brandished, hope taken captive. in her eyes sucked of tomorrow are orbs of dimmed light, its objects shadowy illusions. her mouth droops from the weight of sighs, from lamentations and dirges, from offering desperate […]
from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2yD1Dtc
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