i'm not really sure what this is supposed to be.
it's sort of poetry
it's sort of short stories
it's sort of insignificant
but it's sort of really important.
i guess what it is, depends on who you are.
we're all just living in glass houses, throwing stones
rebelling against whatever it is that we feel to be certain.
a/n:
THIS BOOK IS IN NO WAY AFFILIATED WITH THE ONE DIRECTION "troublesome times" INDEPENDENT SERIES.
let us chronicle my descent into madness, shall we?
VOUS LISEZ
the shepherd's sword
Aléatoire[the things we dare not say aloud] the walls have faces, you know. the angels do not.