SWAN SONG; tom riddle

𝖊𝖕𝖎𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍

bound like scalding wax by my blood and tears, are the letters crafted and pulled directly from the trenches of my blackened essence and the chasm of hell to your empyrean hands.

please treat them gently. not as you would with my heart, but something that would hold significance to you.

undeterred by my posthumous condition, i relentlessly aim to satisfy your wicked soul by sacrificing my broken and tarnished one as an offering.

strange, isn't it?

even in death, i'm yours.