take a sad song

A m a l i a Sitting sounds heavenly. If Amalia had the presence of mind to be grateful she would be; as it is she can barely manage to totter over to the designated wall, pulling her feet up to curl up in her customary chin-on-knees position. The ground below her falls away, leaving only the line of stone upon which the pair of them balance. "Be careful of your toes," Amalia cautions, eyeing the feet that still dangle down off the edge of the fence warily. "The ground bites." The duration of Amalia's sickness is a very difficult thing for her mind to quantify, but she places her forehead on her knees and attempts to do the math. "Mmm... maybe forever," she murmurs unhelpfully, closing her eyes as the world sways. "Maybe a day. I don't remember. I'm sorry." Suddenly her head pops back up, dark eyes peering earnestly over her kneecaps, eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Do you think I'm going to die again?" She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine