She, unlike the others, is more than a mourning voice.
A girl who lacks the vocabulary for the world but is painting with all the colors at once. Red turns brown.
"It's all muddy anyways." - she says.
Don't worry. It doesn't burn that bad. The waves of pleasure sustain us. Right?
Here lies her vision of perfect self-determination.
Her sacrifice is rich and means nothing- just don't tell her.
Who is writing this? I never agreed to share, but I'll sign if you want. I know what I'm doing- ha!
The mask is all you see? Perfect. Untrue as the rest, to smile is to be blessed. Not to be pitied.