Datura Finnilan
Joined September 2017
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Cold Summer
He stood there at the window of the home as the sunlight that should have been warm drenched over his head and shoulders. It was late June, yet the sunlight felt cold to him, like Father Death’s hands wrapping around his throat and strangling him like some kind of madman. It was as if the world were trying to suffocate him and take him down for all he was.
By Datura Finnilan7 years ago in Humans