Word Spill - Blog Posts

𝗦𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗲𝘅𝗵𝗮𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱. Feeling a great fatigue weigh her body down, she doesn’t even have the strength to move her tongue.

Despair and anguish contaminate and curl angrily— 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 in her eyes, body, and soul like the growing shadows as the blazing sun sets.

She can’t move, so the girl stares.

Body limp against the oh so cold floor, she’s too tired to flinch.

Her mind is silent like the dread before a bomb. The bomb will hit her. 𝘏𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥. The bomb is hanging by a thread, tempting her like a carrot on a stick before her.

She bites.

Then once the starving beast is satiated with that bite, she will give up. Let the scorching and blinding heat hatred consume her.