⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀ ┈─ 🪽 ⠀⠀ ❛ nothing ever ends poetically. it ends and it is turned into poetry. all that blood was never once beautiful, it was always just red. ❜ ⁎ ⠀⠀
⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀ ┈─ 🪽 ⠀⠀ ❛ nothing ever ends poetically. it ends and it is turned into poetry. all that blood was never once beautiful, it was always just red. ❜ ⁎ ⠀⠀
⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀ ┈─ ♱ ⠀⠀ ❛ you want so badly to be pure again, you call yourself a doll, a lamb, an innocent little thing. but the color pink doesn’t wash away sin. ❜ ⁎ ⠀⠀
⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀ ┈─ ⠀⠀ ❛ the feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had done nothing but endure. ❜ ⁎
