This is my darkness, the land where the ugly runs free on legs of molten glass. I believe that I was once the possibility for beauty, but twisted, lost that. I am bitter, because I am desperate. I am selfish, because selfless requires inner calm, while I have inner chaos. This is my world, my words, my soul. I require you to love me because I need that. I am in need. I need. I need.
But you do to. I have given. But the one underestimated fact, my sexless identity, my inner chaos, demands someone say, Lolita of the Red Sands, the burning blood inside, crawled through my soul, through the dirt, to the light, through the light to gaze upon you. Lolita, beautiful, lost lolita. I am sorry I could not have come sooner. But you, sir, dreamer, dreamt up and scrambled, in dreams, you are everything I lack. I have never been kissed. Though that is fine, if I were a true Lolita. But I am human and I want to be loved.

I want to be loved.

I want...

I want....


Love.