Musings of a Noxious Mind
Description
It may be a look, a person, a sound or a memory.
My fingers move on its own accord, picking up a pen and drawing galaxies of ink on the parchment.
I trace the cutting edges of my heart. I listen to the whispers of the darkness of my mind. I wear the emotions on my fingertips.
Because I am hopelessly lost and so dreadfully unfeeling.
Foreword
Ramblings and musings, by yours truly.
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