Dear God,
How are you? Thank you for everything; this life is so beautiful.
God, except, there's this one small issue. They think that I'm fearless, they think I'm brave. They treat me like I'm made me of metal, of platinum, gold. But God, I'm not. I'm thin angel hair shards of snow; I am frost. I am the petals of a butterfly, I am dust.
God, I'm just so tired and sad, the only thing I'm scared of, is happiness itself.
Violently high,
Yours faithful,
Baby Sparky
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