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touch of painted curls
estimating the power of denial 
2nd-Dec-2004 03:05 am
dragons
So a girl walks up to a demon of her head. "I know what you're thinking."

The bait is ready. "And it won't work?"

"No. It's not your cup of denial," she smiles, and kindly explains. "My sword grows weary of resting, even now. We long to sing fire and crimson at you... but no."

"No?" Demon licks the edge of worry off a smile. "You won't fight?" The pantry is stocked with ripe teases.

"It's like a fable," she says. "The monsters thrive on attention, and would all but disappear if their nemesis stopped believing in them."

"You're still talking to yourself."

She leans against a quiet sigh. "We are our demons, after all."
Comments 
3rd-Dec-2004 05:13 am (UTC)
Won't it be dull
When we rid ourselves
Of all the demons haunting us
To keep us company?
24th-Feb-2005 05:07 am (UTC)
Won't it be odd
When we're happy like we
Always thought we're supposed to feel
But never seem to be?
4th-Dec-2004 03:53 am (UTC)
Indeed. :)
22nd-Dec-2004 03:11 am (UTC)
hi. i found you through one of the upstate ny communities (i live there too). add me?
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