[Masquerade.]

[Imprint.]

[Bloodline.]

[Birth Of Death.]

Thursday, January 11, 2007

now really, who am i to complain,
when i'm one of the luckiest girls in the world.
yet,

nostalgia bleeds through the air so thick it could be cut with a knife
suffocation with the incapability to breathe like one's true self
and the disabling of the mind with reluctance to try.
is it the heart or mind, that handicaps?
or both in cahoots to lie?

now then,
who is it that lies?

i wish,
to be satisfied.

Thy sang her last verse at coffin 2:00 PM