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fairy tale

they say you forgot how to be soft, you know the shell, hard diamond exterior walls, coating the loveliness inside. is she so different with her manic love of you and the world. so she says good bye to love, to all the plans she made on beer binges, holding half smoked cigarettes that burn her index finger. maybe there was once a reason to get up in the morning, maybe there was a day she felt complete but now she bides her time with imaginary flecks of romance, tossed at her capsized life raft. she sucks the numbing air of the new york winter day and knows that she has crystallized in the falling snow, soon she will grow warm and tired ready to extinguish. weather worn memories line the insides of her moth eaten gloves and she is losing body heat, they eat away at her. someone said tragedy befalls the strong, weighs on the worthy shoulders of broad backed heroes, shes never been a hero. there is a preoccupation with the way she turns the blade, caresses it over the porcelain white, whispering the true use of such sharp realities. her sketch marked arms show that she has troubled the storm raging blue gray inside the beaten breast. she never needed anyone filling her head with fairy tales, she killed them all herself in a mass homicide of ‘too good to be true’, and she’s wearing their skins like fur coats. how did you grow so old my love? what is that face we kiss after midnight, it scowls and wails the banshee hymnal to call on other eviscerated specters. where did sunday go, with its blooming flowers and open arms? her mouth twists and she takes a large bite out of struggling child, “I want to kill it before it knows the truth”

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About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.

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