! TW ! Mentioning suicide, blood, knife !
I stand in a misty path, all alone.
A knife in my hand.
My gray, big wings match my torn dress with ruffles.
âI was never meant to end up on this path, but here we are,â I sigh quietly.
I fall onto wet stones, surrounded by heather.
It was never easy to be an angel. People wish they could grow wings, until they realise the responsibility. Iâve never a...
