The Wistful Witness
You stand at the gate. The iron is cold. It bites your gloves. The mist rolls in. Thick. White. It swallows the courtyard. It swallows the stones. It swallows you. You hold the key. It is small. It is old. It is heavy as a heart. It is yours. You earned it. You bled for it. You fought for it. Now it rests in your palm. A small, cold truth. The Palace breathes. The walls listen. They have always...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen