Challenge
Your first the prose post
Show me your first Prose Post that you entered onto the site with.
Solitude and Death
Loneliness…
Darkness…
Sorrow…
No tomorrow…
Solitude tightly holds the hand of this poor man
It pierces his skin with its glass fingertips
Makes him bleed
Makes him cry
Solitude’s hand is cold… so cold…
The poor man’s soul shivers
He wants to run, but he can’t
Solitude won’t let go
Not now
Not ever
Maybe when Death comes to collect
The poor man hopes…