Sep 2017
She liked to draw,
Her art told stories.
Through many lines,
Released her worries.
She found no joy,
For all she drew was full of sin.
Just like a scar,
The art would lie upon her skin.
Her art told stories.
Through many lines,
Released her worries.
She found no joy,
For all she drew was full of sin.
Just like a scar,
The art would lie upon her skin.
