(no subject)
expectations are shattered by rains of dissapointent. lost in clouds of anguish, a little girl wrapped in hate. why try to please her? she will only draw you deeper into crime and all her murderous tendencies. filled with rage that does consume her, she climbs to highest steeple, looks down at all the war and laps it up like buttermilk. in all her subtle existence she'd never known such fire did exsist let alone thrive in the core of all humanity. alone on rooftops she'd besought our dear lord Jesus without answer, without stir, without a nod of understanding. so turn she did to anger, to the heat that lies neath layers of glass, and she became a monster of hopes that were but dashed.