Delightful is the morning Graze-a blog for my thoughts-*he/him/they/them*20
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The desired one is unachievable, but the accomplished is discarded
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I would rather have had one breath of their hair, one kiss of their mouth, one touch of their hand, than eternity without it
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“Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”
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Frankenstein AU where the Creature, upon returning to seek terrible vengeance on Victor after realizing the tragic existence he's been forced into, takes a few days extra to actually, you know, observe Victor and see what he's like, to learn how best to enact his revenge. And he comes to the conclusion that, "Actually, I don't need to do anything, this idiot's going to ruin his own life without any outside interference, and I kinda wanna see how he does it."
Victor then proceeds to continue with his previously demonstrated levels of making good life choices, while now also constantly looking over his shoulder for his Creation and having the vapors at every little thing because oh noes, it's The Monster come back to Get Him-!!!
The Creature: (watching all this unfold through binoculars like it's a soap opera while sneaking in to help himself to Victor's larder and library when he feels like it, and also occasionally hiding small but vital objects, like Victor's keys or shaving blade, in weird spots in the house) Wow, it really does take an incredibly smart man to be quite this stupid, doesn't it?
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Sometimes I think I was made for this
that some dying god tore their sorrow and pain from their chest and made me
Maybe it's some fucked up form of love for another
maybe I was made to memorialise someone's life
I think if you stripped me down to my skeleton and peeled the calcium from the marrow
you would find the dying gods sorrow and pain smashed together
I think I was carved and shaped by a dying man's hand and the knife that killed him
I think I'm not meant to be happy
sometimes I think that I exist to be a reminder of the dying gods pain
I think I exist to remind someone of his pain
I hope they don't need me anymore
I hope they remember his pain
I'm growing tired of existing to remind someone of pain
I'm growing tired of this pain
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loveless letters, unthought
love lost
pages torn
misunderstands buried in ink.
stamps driven as mile marks into one's Grave
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