"He’s always used our blood for paint and ink. He says that the rawest of art comes from the blood. It is coursing through our veins, we just have to find it. He would've ripped out my heart if he could've. To understand why we yearn to belong somewhere we are claimed to be unwanted. Or to rip out my brain, to dissect everything about ourselves and why we are the way we are. Maybe even my tongue, so it could help him speak coherently enough to be heard by the deaf."
My upload schedule is wack, do not expect frequent uploads.