TellingTales…
Growing up there was a girl who looked just like me.
Growing up there was a girl who looked just like me.
They pulled up to the house a quarter after one. The police lights flashed: first red, then blue, across the all white house. It was the perfect place for a young child to grow up in. Only he wouldn’t be . . . . . . because he was missing.
I was walking in a world of my own creation.
She ran. The sharp graveled road leaving splinters in her skin.
Scream.