Plaster

Plaster

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, May 10, 2017
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Fiction
Fantasy
The walls are made of plaster, the floors are made of wood, my heart is made of glass, and my soul is made of screams. I've been here so long I don't know who I am any longer, I can't remember what hour it is, or what day, or even what year. I haven't seen the sun since I was put here, I haven't talked to another person, or done anything besides slowly go crazy. When will I ever leave?
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Illustration

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[ARTIST CREDIT: aoiuchuu] My blood on the floor, Coming from lines I don't remember drawing. Death is standing in the door, Ready to take me home. There are cries to stay, That I cannot heed. I'm sorry it had to end this way. I truly am. Our love is true, But please understand... I cannot stay here with you. I am tired. I need to rest. I'm just glad... Yours is the last face I see.

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