The bruise on my arm grows darker each day.
Death is just below the surface.
Yellowing and turning a shade of purple.
Collecting and decaying.
The others will arrive.
Ready to replace.
A new army.
-AbbyB.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 12:38 AM UTC
The bruise on my arm grows darker each day.
Death is just below the surface.
Yellowing and turning a shade of purple.
Collecting and decaying.
The others will arrive.
Ready to replace.
A new army.
-AbbyB.
