Pitiful Shadow Engulfed In Darkness
I'd like to write you a story. I worry that my words lack colour and grace. You see, I have no poise when it comes to explaining myself. I am too abstract. My heart is like an exhibit at the Tate Modern - delicate and beautiful, but it makes no fucking sense. You can stand back and stare if it makes things easier. Bend your neck to one side, to alter its dimensions. I find that works the best. It makes me more human than what I actually am. What I'm trying to say is, that I'd like to write you a story but I worry I might fail. Can you break my body into pieces with a glance?
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