The Wistful Asylum

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-22 06:16:57 -

The mud sucks at your boots. It is thick, cold, and tastes of iron on your tongue. You walk. Your father’s hand is not there. It has not been there for three days. You walk alone into the dark. The forest is not a forest. It is a mouth. The trees are teeth. They bite. They chew. They do not stop. You are a maker of clocks. You know time. You know the tick. You know the tock. You know the gear...

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