She took the white flower with her. She went home. It was already night, and it was raining. The disturbing sound of voices made her feel desperate. She embraced the flower and felt something on her hands. They were bleeding. The flower was no longer beautiful and white. It was red and dead.sábado, 22 de março de 2008
Flower...
She took the white flower with her. She went home. It was already night, and it was raining. The disturbing sound of voices made her feel desperate. She embraced the flower and felt something on her hands. They were bleeding. The flower was no longer beautiful and white. It was red and dead.
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3 comentários:
A beutiful flower...
How could you make a "funeral text" to this pretty image?
Enough, right?
Luv ya!
I miss you so...
>_<
olá, qt tempo.
tudo bem por ai? (pergunta de retórica, poupe-me de resposta dos tipo longa, ainda mais se envolve coisas do tipo: mais ou menos, meu ciático doi...) :P
Mas agora de verdade, espero que esteja bem!
Bjos, se cuida.
Eu precisava escrever algo do tipo, certos demônios não morrem. Mudando de assunto, essa foto é bem bonita... E o final é bem como gosto quando você escreve. Você devia escrever mais, faz falta... Quem sabe um conto? Outro poema? Alguma coisa? Vou ficar esperando.
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