In just six days another year will have passed in this precious life
so pristine, so indulging-
Another year older, yet another heart or two broken.
How can one look forward to growing old when their mirage of a life seems to have so many graceful flaws?
Flaws so delicate, yet so prestigious
Just another year past, and another let down... hatred fills her soul, while anguish fills my heart.
Reminiscing on the years past only places me in a pile of glass...
once a beautiful glass house... now shattered from too many stones thrown.
Splintered glass in my heart... on my soul... in my hands..
crimson rivers flow down my arms, while empty bodies lie at rest.
Only Six.
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