Her sholders never shook. No tears streamed down her face. The worst type of crying wasn't the kind everyone could see -- the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on the part of your soul that survived.
React
Comment
Share
linda
Delete Comment
Are you sure that you want to delete this comment ?