A glimmer of light shone through the thick layer of black on the window. With the little illumination, you could faintly make out the shapes in that room. It was small, almost claustrophobic. The lack of ventilation made the wood smell old. Sometimes, you might think where you step, little creatures scramble to get away. A mirror sat in the corner reflecting what it could, a cloth, yellow with time half draped over it. You can hardly call it a room. It was really more of a closet. But that was where life was. Life was in that closet - boxed in and old. The only light that shines in, no one bothers to allow more of it to light up the room but wait longer and longer until it dims, flickers, and dies.
ABOUTAGIRL
ZAB
My brain, my strings and my keys.
BMus Double Major
Songwriter (M)
Singer (M)
Pianist(m)
Guitarist (L)
Vision College, Hamilton, NZ LOVES
BrettCalebJoanneNick - Tutooooors and their bands DISCLAIMER
Everything in this blog is not to be taken literally sometimes.Thank you for reading and leave me a message. =)
