Last Login: 07/10/2016 7:42 am
This has been my journal for a while now, but I've never been one to write in it very often. I actually went over a year between entries because I forgot about it. Now it's become my little collection space for poems, along with a random place fo
What a fright you are, Cantella, dressed in your rags, ratty hair tied back in a crude knot. You look like death in a dirty, torn sundress; blood on your sandals, staining the soles of your feet. You have scars on your fingers, with your nails all ripped up. Your pretty pale skin is stained dark with dirt. What a fright you are, Cantella, dressed in your rags. You look like death, all prettied up.
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