Emma. Welcome to hell. My hands are pale and as cold as ice. At night i perch on my roof, and let the thunderstorms burrow themselves deep inside my veins. I breathe in raspberries and weed, and dream in an old white truck. My eyes are the color of the ocean, and reflect the longing in your soul. We are all made up of four billion year old stardust. And the purple scars on our skin remind us we are real.