Billie scuffed her flip flops through the dry needles scattered over the Christmas tree lot. Pine scent filled the air. But it felt too hot for Christmas.
"How about this one?" Her mom turned a
...
[+]
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.