She picks her tune with ease,
on a violin drunk with pain
she sways, flays, and cascades down the sound,
an ode to her death.
posted by rorschach at
8:35 AM
Saturday, February 16, 2008
About Me
- Name: rorschach
"Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose.... Free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world. Was Rorschach."
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