Her voice had a tendency to ring out, much louder than ever needed, ever wanted.
She was lost, but she was content in her lost, content in no belonging.
You gave her brief sight though, wanted and willed her a way out.
Carved her in stone, made art with her body.
She appreciated that.
But now she's onto better things.
YOU ARE READING
willful ignorance is bliss, accept death
RandomTo love is death. But if death does not exist, does love? End it all. Let me die .