By: Linda M Crate it’s the morning after, and i feel so numb and broken; like my wings have been not only clipped but pinned to the ground— how could hate win? why did we let this happen? i’m so…
By: Linda M Crate it’s the morning after, and i feel so numb and broken; like my wings have been not only clipped but pinned to the ground— how could hate win? why did we let this happen? i’m so…