•A DARYL DIXON STORY•
"I need you to listen to me. When we're out there together, if I say run, run. If I tell you to leave me, then damn it, you leave and you don't look back."
"Daryl," she sighed softly, shaking her head.
"No, I mean it," he argue...
A bonded servant, Taut and sad, Tempted to becoming mad, Subjected to expected pain Recurring, by her need, again- She bore the careless winter sleet
Unshackled slave, Or so she felt, By loosening her moral belt, Letting the fire beneath her skin Cauterize the hurt within- The girl embodied August heat
Bewildered woman, Now mature, Uncertain touch becoming sure; Now rarely crouched behind a wall Distrusting any love at all The quiet fall pervades the street
-Alice Clay Judson
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