A/N: the following couple will be some stuff I wrote while bored one Ap class, so without further ado here are my school writing doodles~
Pages of bitter nothings, written in vengeful agony as I fell upon the ground- all spill about me like my past hopes and dreams, wishes struck in vain into my frigid heart of stone; remember that marble is brittle and cracks easily at it's edges.
Wielding chisels made of jealousy I tune this age old stone, so quartz flares up into nothing, embers of light flickering upon what was once something. And there are no oils to erase with, what's done is past and done, yet I wield my chisel so expertly, and with precision only destroy.
YOU ARE READING
The Mourning Times
RandomThis is a collection of short stories, poetry, and sayings that are particularly meaningless unless you read them. So please do
