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Annastaysia's Journal of Doomage
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It’s time to tumble down the stairway now, and so I fall from grace, which never was mine. My bruises belong to you, my pretty murderers, and if I survive, I’m sure to be forever haunted by your blackened skies. Knowing your existences, and knowing their lethal loyalty, and knowing that I begged to belong, that I’ll
always
beg
to belong.
always
beg
to belong.