Someone once told me I had an angel's face, a living, breathing china doll of innocence.
I ingloriously snorted.
A friend, upon looking at my school identification cards through elementary, high school, and college, said it's as though I haven't changed a bit.
Still she of the smooth chubby skin and naive eyes.
Strange, though, how different I feel now. If I am an angel, I am fallen..or an angel teetering close to the cloud's edge, waiting for someone to drag me down.
I'm sick of being caught between innocence and desire.
I wonder if one day, I'll see him in singing,
and it will make me cast off my restraints and my looms,
and climb down from the tower,
and lay down on a boat
and meet him in death.
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