Heart beats and paper wings, Tattered clothes and souls that sing. Beauty that relies on grace, Salty tears that run down the face. Hopes that give a crown and throne, Fears that wittle down to the bone. Angels protecting with all their might, Demons killing out of spite. Making sure another dies, She won't live to be a butterfly.
March 21, 2017. I'm not sure what exactly this is, other than a culmination of my mind.