"Mrs. Crump?"
The man frowning at Madge through the screen door had stolen a letter from the mailbox earlier in the week, so he knew the surname.
"Yes," Madge replied.
"I'm Harold Bates from the
...
[+]
Crippled by the destined fate
Fades
When bygones feel like bygones
Bygones have long been bygones
When stories are fragmented into plots
When feelings stray
Facts go astray
And become #cliche
Yet,
Weary tears
catalyses growth
like dreary years.
To the champion of companion
When strife no longer kills like a knife
Something will remain vividly in mind.