I hope he treats you right

November 2nd, 2011by Scissorhands

I’ve felt myself wither away.  My heart is buried in the snows of last year, my soul is liquid in a bottle, my feeling is gone and my hands are replaced with scissors. I feel incomplete. My hands… cold, rusted, devoid of anything human, the hands I used to hold you with, are now sharpened… The pain they may inflict reflects what I feel inside.  I can’t even see my own reflection, every mirror I’ve punched out, and my fingers… I’ve scratch out every last reflective gleam they could have ever bared. My only company is myself, hate and regret…

I hope he treats you right…

 

Scissorhands.

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