This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at NCSU chapter.
Letting the strings play of a passion whittled down and torn apart, listening closely as letters from words serenade within the conscience as eloquently spoken monologues compliment the eclectic
dashes of dilly dabbled doubt.
Dancing in the rain of a shameful sorrow soul who shares my same reflection; how Dare you heathen mock me as you let ripples have at you so easily!
Tracing the fickle flames as they frolic ever closer, not wanting, but hoping that they satisfy their greed before making tender of their author… wait… what greed is there to satisfy? Nothing is ever consumed, it only becomes…
And as I stand tracing, dancing, and listening, I can’t help but wonder why, why not just pull away? When the symphony plays, the sprinkles drop, and when the sprinkles drop, so ignites the frolic… Pull away? Why? I’m having too much fun…