AN: I'm posting this for ME. I don't care if you like it. I wanted to write it, and if you don't like it, then you can keep that to yourself. If you really like it, go ahead and keep that to yourself as well. I'm kinda depressed right now and don't feel like talking. So blah.

Disclaimer: I live in a darker world that you know.

Po-wemy weirdness




It's all soft.

Teardrops and rainfall are one and the same.



I can still see you bleeding, you know. The massive, mechanical hand was spray-washed of the blood, but not the sin.

Crimson eyes. We are alike, now, as well. Mine shall cry tears of blood, and you'll watch and know from where ever, because you have to care.

No, you don't. But I think you do.

Your hair was like… all the shades of grey. Your world wasn't black and white, either, but your hair most certainly wasn't.

Skin like yours has no equal, pale and warm. Warm.

Your reassuring hand was nice like that, too. Some depth within you compelled the listener to lay a weary head upon your angelic breast and lay with you, safe, just like that, till your body starved and died. And the soul would lay deeper, somewhere closer.


I love you. How… overused. How cliché. I can't help it.

God help me.

I have loved and sinned and killed an angel.