‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝓻otten‍‍‍ ‍𝖑uck ‍、𝖇oys. ( hiatus )

people speak of hope as if it is this delicate, ephemeral thing made of whispers and spider's webs. it's not. hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of cobblestones in her hair.

 ⠀  i ⠀ know ⠀ when ⠀ i ⠀ di͟e ⠀ 、⠀⠀ my ⠀ soul ⠀ is ⠀ ( * ) ⠀ damned.

ᅠ ᅠ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ཐི 𝓔mbrace ⠀𝓔ternity ཋྀ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ᅠ ᅠ

⠀⠀ #⃝ ˖֯ ،̲، ͜JANE SHEPARD / ˛ /̸͆̅̿̎͞ ̎̅̿ ̄̿̈ ͆̈̚ ̎ ₊ ᯓ★ 𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙎𝙏 ᴴᵁᴹᴬᴺ 𝙎𝙋𝙀͟𝘾͟𝙏͟𝙍͟𝙀 ᵎᵎ

ɪɪ﹒ 𝘴trength of women ﹐ help 𝘰͟𝘶͟𝘳͟ᵈ͟ᵃ͟ᵘ͟ᵍ͟ʰ͟ᵗ͟ᵉ͟ʳ͟ˢ͟ through this fray ﹐ save ﹙ them ﹚ from ʀᴜɪɴ ﹐ we pray ﹒

with all due respect， which is none，

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ my kind of rebirth tasted like blood. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀

rage! ——— like a prayer, unanswered, ricocheting from your ceiling and landing right onto your eyes, never quite reaching where it was meant to.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝕾𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄⠀— ⠀⠀𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝖄𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝑹𝑨𝑹𝑬.