An Idea

The music blares wide open. I can feel it humming inside of me. I dance in front of the mirror moving as to follow the sadistic beat that this Marilyn Manson track emanates. Three candles are lit, all of the lights are out, and I stand topless in a black lacey thong. I simply love the way the candles light up my body in the mirror and the way my hands glide over my skin. The thrill that this dark pleasure brings me forces me to bite my lip and smile as the thin line of blood falls from it.

I wish to find the melodramatic beauty in this poisoned fantasy; an ugly girl thrives on the seductive atmosphere that makes her feel pretty. Putting it in such a way makes it seem sad and almost sweet, doesn’t it? As I continue to replay this thought over and over again in my mind, I dread knowing that this delightful dance must come to an end soon; I must return to the bland reality in which I am a freak among society.

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