On my bed I lay for hours crouched into foetal position. My hands fisted at my chest; any sudden movement would make me rip my own heart out. Away from my body, I lift my head up - singing to the ceiling, and through to the night sky. I sing in tune with sadness and sorrow; the rivers of despair trailing down my soft, flushed cheeks.
ginx vicioux
Monday, November 2, 2009
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