| She is the one holding the cloud above her head, but I don't think she realises it. |


lettersYou spoke with your pens, ink on skin turning your hands a sickly shade of grey that never really washed out. You were neurotic like that, I guess, always writing in a sad attempt to clear your mind of the inky chains of words that bound it.letters
I would talk to you, meaningless words about the birds or music or school. And you would answer, inky letters sharp against the sickly tone of your skin.
We would talk like that, conversations slower and quieter than most other peoples, and we were fine with that. We picked our words carefully, and always got our point across, and if our talks wer
--
Mimes are trying to take over the world
so far they have failed
they keep getting stuck in invisible boxes
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"I believe a person's mind is shown through their taste in Art..."
I didn't know because there aren't any pics on here and I'm awful at remembering names
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