Sing me the story where everyone dies and the author is honest about us. She writes our confusions large our trembling small. We did not understand were not scared enough of ignorance to save ourselves. Whisper me a denouement a held breath because no one will hear it and nothing remains to be said. Make me weak in the knees for a world that whimpers all out of punctuation all threads cut the inkwell dry as our tongues. When the words crawl up to the edge of the page she gets another chance to say something true about herself.
So good!
Thank you! :D
I love this!!
Thank you, thank you!