(no subject)
All shapes and sizes, ages, numbers, from worlds beyond thinking, from the darkest parts of our hearts, the lightest clouds of our souls. But what are they, you ask? Gifts. Gifts in the form of those you knew, those you loved, those who died by your hands or fell at your feet. Illusions, ghosts, figments of your imaginations, it matters not. They have come for a purpose, fulfilling a need inside. The choice of what to do with such gifts lie in your hands. The clock is ticking. Will you make amends? Raise your blade again? Give in to that part of you that longs for a lover's touch, a mother's kiss, a master's whip? Do not waste your chance, because for all we know, they are not real.
or are they?