No
Dinner when I get home. Please don't make me eat....
2
0
10 words
18 years old and still trying to lose myself on literature. Story writer, art maker, day dreamer, zombie killer
Dinner when I get home. Please don't make me eat....
It pools in my mouth, unpleasant, pain. It hurts, blistering the roof of my mouth as it slips down my throat leaving a raw numb sensation on in my across my tongue.