Dana L. Pertermann Wounds Every time I pick up a newspaper the shrapnel from the bombs and the bullets rip through, flecked with blood. These missiles of justice don't care whose child they hit. Contributor's bio Return to Table of Contents
Wounds
Every time I pick up a newspaper the shrapnel from the bombs and the bullets rip through, flecked with blood. These missiles of justice don't care whose child they hit.
Contributor's bio Return to Table of Contents