a wax.

sometimes, as we permeate ourselves into the perfect being, there are the odd chunks of granites among the smooth cream.

the pain is indeed deep and boy, the sadistic ventriloquists out there are having a field trip. As they begin to throw their voices of command into the deep abyss, the mermaid echoes with deep fervour for its commandment.

the icy cold trickling slowly down the shoulder, reaching its sensitivity of warming hearts. just how much pain can one cause before the conscience is jolted into realising the tomfoolery committed.

for sure.`no one knows the destiny planned out except the beholder itself.