Each of your lives has been mourned,
And mourned nine times over-- still,
- there is no reason there.
No residual facet of fact on which this fiction can rely.
Tell me, my wormwood angel, did you choose to die?
Jan 17, 2021
Jan 17, 2021 at 3:49 PM UTC
Each of your lives has been mourned,
And mourned nine times over-- still,
- there is no reason there.
No residual facet of fact on which this fiction can rely.
Tell me, my wormwood angel, did you choose to die?