Chapter 128

“Maybe all we are is poetry.”

She heard it all over again like. The words that were now engraved into her soul.

“Maybe all we are is poetry.” She whispered in the suffocating air of the empty corridor. Answering the question that lay between the words. Begging for those to be the words that would one day be engraved into her tombstone and maybe then craved there would be their poetry. Their words ad their lust.