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'Witch, internal suffering, stands at the borken doorway
Blood is shed, keep coming clearer, Dance with you in the morning
Life is grand, so they say, though they'll never know what it is until its gone
So take my hand, don't be afraid, give me your life, and I will stay...'
Collin would hum these words to himself everyday, before and after the days activities. Collin was your regular slave boy, in a house where no one cared for him. They just used him for whatever twisted plans they could come up with. It was hard on Collin, as any kind of humiliation would be on a child. He didn't ask for this, yet, these were the cards that life had delt him to play with.
'Take the knife upon your hand, spin it round and round again
Now cut slowly, dont forget to smile, Pain only lasts for a while
Though it hurts, you know that we love you, we only want your body
So come with me, and I'll sing a lullaby of death for you are my sweetie.'
Numerous sensations filled Collin's hands, and knees. Sometimes a crack would be felt in his leg, like a muscle being pulled, too hard. He would cry, but the his friends would tell him to take some random pills from the shelf to get rid of the pain. Collin did as they said, anything to take the pain away. Collin loved his friends, even though he was the only one who could see them, he still loved them.
'Cut and bleed while looking at the stars, look at them, all so pretty
Come to be with me, this night my child, you are my only beauty.
Take the knife upon the shelf, and run it around your wrist like
This and that's all you really have to do, to kill the pain, and come to me..
Come to me Collin...'
Collin started having a breakdown, slowly, but surely, the world would fall, and he would be lost in the darkness forever. Life now seemed so dull... Death was the only medicine he needed to cure the pain... And so, Collin reached for the knife, like the woman said. he grabbed it from the shelf, tears running down his face as he cried from the force of the pain. It was too much...
'That's it my child, you're almost there, now listen to me carefully
Push it in, into your skin, don't make a sound my darling
Then you'll find, peace and harmony, together with me to stay
And I'll take good care of you, my darling, my child....'
"COLLIN!?"
Collin heard a loud scream come from the outside doorway. the door opened, and the man was drunk again.
"Come here...."
~End~
*NOTE* - Just so everyone knows, the first, third, fifth, paragraphs (the ones with ' ' on them, are words of a song a woman claiming to be Collin's mother, is singing to him. - *END NOTE*
21.
Love who you want to.
~Josh~
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Hey Josh. I really liked it. You have so much talent.
Your ~aqua-chan~
PS I sent you an IM. Don't know why I never thought about that before. Some times I'm just dumb.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. Washington Irving
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You're not dumb Aqua-chan^^ You're smart^^
What's your MSN address?^^ I wanna add you to my list^^
~Josh~
21.
Love who you want to.
~Josh~
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I sent you a breif IM. Can you get it from there?
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. Washington Irving
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I think it's marco9-24@hotmail.com
[Updated on: Wed, 29 August 2007 00:59]
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. Washington Irving
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thanks^^ i added you^^
~Josh~
21.
Love who you want to.
~Josh~
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Thanks lil bro.
Love ya
~aqua-chan~
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. Washington Irving
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