Reflection
- Reads 214
- Votes 58
- Parts 7
"A girl had disappeared into the heart of the woods only for her carcass to be discovered, hanging from strings, soul spilling from an open mouth. Her ribs poked through her shirt, cheekbones through her skin. The flies feasted on the rotten corruption of beauty gone bad."
It was the mirrors. And the flies.
But mostly the mirrors.
This is not my story to tell, but I'm telling it anyway. Not for me. For them.
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#344
poetic
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