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She, unlike the others, is more than a mourning voice. 

A girl who lacks the vocabulary for the world but is painting with all the colors at once. Red turns brown. 


"It's all muddy anyways." - she says.

Don't worry. It doesn't burn that bad. The waves of pleasure sustain us. Right?


Mrs. Givings

Here lies her vision of perfect self-determination.

Her sacrifice is rich and means nothing- just don't tell her. 


Who is writing this? I never agreed to share, but I'll sign if you want. I know what I'm doing- ha! 

The mask is all you see? Perfect. Untrue as the rest, to smile is to be blessed. Not to be pitied.


Hold on; she’s almost finished dreaming. 


Wobbly figures and gelatin sky. Bubbling birth within me acquires a new kind of death. That was not the first one.

I am a being of multiple meanings. Limitations mock me. It looks nice, the release.

Unlock me. 

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