Oil paint on canvas

One Comment

  1. Posted March 30, 2015 at 9:48 pm | Permalink

    The hole he is in is dark and damp and cold, he drinks sun and light through a chink in the prison wall, he’s been screaming get me out of here for that long he has lost his voice, he is screaming at the top of his voice and screaming so hard his chest hurts but there is not a sound not a whisper only the tears and the feeling of emptiness and sorrow, maybe tomorrow.

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