Your words break me like porcelain heating on fire. No warnings, slowly with certainty.
My fainting heart beats with remorse over what I have done and will do.
Would my soul sit up when the time comes?
Will I die a happy death or would the reaper reap me off of my relentless body?

There was something peculiar about the arrangement of organs on her face. Her eyes, for instance is disproportionate to her lips. And at the bottom of those were strange dark lines, her eye sockets hollow, casting shadow on that emptiness under her eyes. Her eyebrows are half made, two half arches across her forehead. It was as if there were created with hesitation. And thats exactly what her life is. A hesitation.