I am accused. I dream of massacres. I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them, Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the world conceives Its end and runs toward it, arms held out in love.

Author   Sylvia PlathTopics   Dark Dreams, Self Hate, World Endings, Agony, Fear, Hate Copy Share on Share on Facebook Share on Pinterest Share on Twitter

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