Twistedness
"You asked me what is my nature? It is a dark and twisted thing."
The coils of thread slip smoothly between her fingers, and she twists and pulls them into order, even as she loses herself in her memories. Dark and twisted? That was a nice way to put it. Psychotic was another, of course.
One tear, full of all her twistedness and hate.
A/N: Bitter retrospective-ness is love :D
Written December the Eighth.
Sunshine and laughter and dead butterflies~
Sweethearted.