the echo
she writes in leather, blood ink, and precision—her story traced through hell not once, but many times—she returned, reborn. the echo scurries, spewing prints in plastic, a hollow heart performing through the next borrowed scene.
she writes in leather, blood ink, and precision—her story traced through hell not once, but many times—she returned, reborn. the echo scurries, spewing prints in plastic, a hollow heart performing through the next borrowed scene.