IceAppleArts

It's interesting who those on the outside are quick to judge. Pointing fingers pressing false conclusions to a point of aiming for others to believe in the misleading. Juggling eyes glare as the soft whispers flows grow even deeper into a roaring crowd. Huddle hands along frustrated ridges deepen with fear eyes running like rivers. Why do they not see... Why do they not believe... Why do they barter the soul so the truth turns hiding behind lock doors. The voice of one will away stand strong even when broken. I'm a mother that loves and cares for them the best way I can. I'll do anything to make them happy and protect them. Why can't they see