The Ides of March by patronus_charm
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A star riding through clouds.
For it is a disease, strangling away at me so my thought and reason are obscured away.
Nothing thicker than a knife's blade.
I have been ignorant in the light of wisdom. I have been gluttonous in the light of self-surrender. I have been vanity in the light of the mirror.
Melancholy were the sounds.
A being which beats for you, Eleanor, which hurls its heart out at the rocks so it can be slain for you.
Consider things like the stars.
Only in Death will I know what is and finally understand all the answers.
Love makes one solitary.
There is no point hoping for anything to do with Father though. He is firmly locked away in the life beyond ours, never to return, only to be joined.
Tear me asunder.
He is ageing away at eight and twenty to my youthful seventeen years. I cannot marry an old man.
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