Vintage scars and VCRs wrapped up in floral scarves.

Cigarette stained teeth and cold blue eyes that told you "I don't care".

Dishevelled blonde hair with a pale white streak.

How could she let her thoughts turn to death? She swore she would stamp it out.

She would stare at the ink-blot constellation, she knew that she would one day become a pillar of salt.

The beauty was her curse, she was exquisite and nothing more.

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