Stories, random entries about my life, poems, pics
The Sanctuary, For this is our last breathe
They follow us, One bye one. We hear the footsteps get louder, as our footsteps go faster. All we hear is the footsteps running after us. We reach the gates. We reach our home, our sanctuary. But it is to late, they've already penitrated it. All we hear is our breathes, slow, they begin to pick up speed. Now all there is, is silence. For we have been murdered and silence is the only thing heard.