The crime against humanity that left a stigma for everyone.

A poet sees a poem as a window which suddenly gets a shaft of light coming at the eyes, and is captured in ink.

There is a big difference between destroying evil and creating good.

Her flaming lips bit into mine and drew blood, she had not any though, neither control nor heart, but cold stone, her eyes icicles, nothing but empty holes, the pain of light that once once, eating at her mind.

Thank You Walmart!