White halls.
White doors.
White walls.
White floors.
“That rhymes,” I tell myself.
Anything to stop me from thinking about where I am. Continue reading “Heartache”
White halls.
White doors.
White walls.
White floors.
“That rhymes,” I tell myself.
Anything to stop me from thinking about where I am. Continue reading “Heartache”
Reflections Of A Bear 