Leonell EchaFebruary 3, 2017
The crime was the form she’d appeared. A rose that sprouts yet unworthy of pride; An unanswered prayer ridden with riddles. “She isn’t the torch bearer,” they mused. “She’s just another flower by the roadside, Awaiting to be plucked by strange hands Into foreign and far climes, and forgotten. A house filled with them is […]