You’re walking through this place so carelessly like it’s a home, but it never was and never can be. You pace the halls with careful steps, barely making it through this mess. A mess with walls built from bones, plastered with guts, and broken hearts. Voices trapped inside like each one was nailed in with the hammer of my own soul, and God I hear them. I cannot ever stop hearing them. I stopped decorating these walls, because the pretty doesn’t cover up the noise of walls crumbling, and paint does not tone down this heaping rubble that fell down … Read more at the source.
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