I’ve always admired writers, they who pour out their heart before death.But when I write; each letter, a little more blood sheds on these papers.
Now there’s just blood across the sheets where I lay in dried ink.
Pen and paper
I’ve always admired writers, they who pour out their heart before death.But when I write; each letter, a little more blood sheds on these papers.
Now there’s just blood across the sheets where I lay in dried ink.
