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originally posted by: Tiamat384
a reply to: Abysha
I'm uncertain how to interpret that. Snarky? By no means do I even consider myself good at writing. I despise much of what I've written and find it mediocre, but on the other hand knowing what I now know I will refrain from posting anything of that sort. I've always enjoyed sharing, but will find elsewhere if anyone found anything I've written as fine, but I wouldn't check if I were you. It's all horrible.
I despise much of what I've written and find it mediocre,
What a short time back at my home. What should be eternity, days. Here in my home to find that I little by little no longer that child, no more sweet child of me. Guitars, bass and drums roared in my ears as gods denounced by immortals with long hair. As tyrants denounced by those with less steam
Her eyes are closed, no longer does she see the Beauty that she is. She lies dead, my Queen is dead. She is spilled upon the world. Her lips are crimson red, lips that will never again pronounce a word, lips that will never part to open for a laugh, her laugh that beckoned to the world. Her feet are bare with the thin silk gown that is the color of Night wrapping around her from nape and arms to her ankles the ends just dangling above her feet. Her feet that are bare and that walked and glided across this world still are divine. She lies dead, dead upon the garden. I had placed a Rose in her hands that rest atop her breasts. I close her hands tight around the rose till the thorns puncture her skin