PetiteSorciere

It doesn't really work Except in your head And the whole thing is quite obviously Stupid It doesn't make sense A big dumb walking And talking cliché Like hydrogen And oxygen It should have been quick Like pulling a band-aid Over and done Before you can Blink Please quit picking at the scabs, dammit! You're making it worse And I'm running out Of band-aids You're just a no-count pup And its all about The way that you string Those fancy words of yours Together

 Women ushered their children to the opposite side of the narrow street as Eliott approached. Some cast harried glances in his direction. Still others looked on him with pity when he passed. He himself had not the slightest idea of how long he had been walking, nor did it matter to him. He trudged on with determined steps as if he was in a hurry to get somewhere, when in fact he had no destination in mind whatsoever. Running his spidery fingers through his auburn hair over and over again until it stood on end in every direction and mumbling angrily, yet incoherently, to himself under his breath gave him the appearance of one who belonged in a

He probably wouldn’t have done it if anything had happened differently. Eliott Cavendish is not the sort of person one would typically associate with anything criminal or morally unsound. No one would ever suspect him of involving himself in any nefarious activities whatsoever. And why should they? He comes from a respectable, upright, and relatively wealthy family. He dresses reasonably well (or at least, he likes to think that he does). He has never been in any sort of trouble during his childhood. On top of that, Eliott is known throughout his community as being a very intelligent and reasonable person. He got good marks all through s