Blood dripping down my hands but it is not mine.
My tongue forcing words for no one to hear but me.
My fists are clenched and my vanes are twitching in an uneven rhythm.
My unforgiving furry shaking.
Women falling like glass and breaking in to millions of pieces.
Their shining glare has turned to ashes
I could never be as beautiful as them.
Even if I desire.
My butterflies flying and killing and growing in the unknown darkness of what I desire.
Sharp blades furiously slashing.
An insane beauty I have created.
From a women’s valueless mask.
I have made me or what I want to be.
My face only seen it dim shadows.
But the lights are off.
Knife in hand with silence my voice follows.

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