You never listened to her, you don’t Listen to me either. great Expectations.

baby soft skin, cracking at the seams.

Panic.

a new shot at writing, no?

'i love you' hasnt dropped into your house, but it fell into the neighborhood

Aralayah has just lost her family in a fire that she barely escaped. What happens when she begins to overcome the shock over the deaths and the depression begins to sink in?

shimmering with the mirror of my reflection until i want to mash it up like a single-minded-flashback with dancing fire blanketed with a kerosene reality

every move you make that shows that you love someone else makes the glass drive deeper & deeper until i cant stand the deadbeat anymore

i fell asleep last night thinking about you (of course—who (else)

‘i love you’ into her forearm with a paper clip blood swirling all around

can you really tell im there?

why cant i just scream about how screwed up i am

(clap once for a trance (clap twice for o.b.e.d.i.e.n.c.e.) im under your control

nothingleftforhertosurviveon-nobody left to cheer her on

& so now I sit here as this n.i.g.h.t.m.a.r.e. continues (LETMELEAVE)

can you just i m a g i n e being free?

have you ever felt everything just drift away as someone else took control?

im just that tornbabyangel who forgot (just) how to fly a w a y . . . forever

I'm not normal. Well, I am, but not really. I like black, that's all. And darkness. And night. Wait, I'm not sounding normal now, am I? I guess you'll just have to see for yourself how normal an 'almost Goth' girl really is.