Feb. 27th, 2003

frost_incarnate: (Default)
I should have, but somehow I did not.

I have nothing to say. There are no words left. I picked up my violin, but there was no music to play, only noise, and I am not surprised because I think that nothing beautiful can come of this.


I regret nothing.


Every word I spoke, every deed I did, I would do again.


What does that make me?

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frost_incarnate

October 2004

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