Loving The Mafia King
Each sob feels like a release, an acknowledgment of the struggles I’ve been facing, and I allow myself to feel every bit of it.
I keep sobbing uncontrollably, my hands still clasped in prayer, remaining in the same position as before. My body trembles with each wave of emotion, and with my eyes tightly shut, I begin to speak, "God, please." My voice cracks, breaking under the weight of my desperation, and all that escapes me are stuttering whispers that barely fill the empty church. "God, please..." I plead again, my heart racing and unable to stop the tears from flowing like a river down my cheeks.
Bab Populer