I love goth girls
Oh my love for goth girls span farther than your mind could imagine. Their black mascara and their black attire, all of it praising the cloak of darkness they find comfort in. Their piercings that dot their face and line their features are simply glorious. Vampiric goths, Spider goths, Lolita goths, Faerie Goths, Elf Goths, Alt Goths, Punk goth, goth goth goth I love them all. Their black thigh high stockings, their knee length heel top boots, their frills that give you chills, the shrillish makeup that drive me ill. All of it, I want it. Their long black hair, their short black hair, their bald black hair, their pale white faces, with their black glossy makeup, their shiny black faces, with their glowing white makeup. To work in harmony to provide which is black, which is goth, which is life. The culture whom seen millenias of violence, whose seen ages of darkness, who fell off their original status of this world, restored to the bitterdeepend which is goth. Finding a place in the night, finding a world fit for themselves. Black platform shoes, laces, straps, scrunchies, frills, on black on black on black thread. Carrying necronomincons of old, grimoires of ages past, and runes of earthen origins. Their helixes, daiths, conches, snugs, orbitals, rooks, traguses, septums, bridges, septrils, nasallangs, labrets, bites, philitrums, rhinos, navel piercings. All of them, I want to lick the steel of every piercing in existence. Their cobblewebbed hands, adorned with black accessories, their chains, their rings, their stickers, their tattoos, all of them, I want it.