I use to see happiness in everything. The curious mew of a kitten, the innocent expression on Kirby's face...the love i have for Cara...
Then my stepfather lets me know how real everything is. He awakes from his bed and says "move" menacingly while all I was doing was playing a game with my sister. There are no candles in my room tonight. What use are they for lighting an empty domain like mine with light? I feel my heart beating but I do not feel alive. I open my eyes underneath the safety of my two blankets, my mattress being my home within a home, but all I see is black darkness. No outward thought, no inward awareness. Only an eternally powerless body being swung around as a plaything for a bored, mortal god that lives in my house.
I no longer feel emotion, though I still cry bleeding tears. I drink my sorrows away with cola, but what good will it do for the moment? Soon it will be gone, I'll have none left to drink, and while it is of pleasurable taste, it is only a bandage on a wound thr size of my whole body, that does not bleed.
Whoever heard of a sad clown or a happy storm? Such things do not exist and neither should I, lest the deity known as God Himself weeps for me, surely He does, having pity for a lifeless mortal?
I am already dead. You only stand before a walking corpse, praying for death that will not come and show mercy.
Surely there is peace in a stone cold heart, where worms feast upon the dead...?
Then my stepfather lets me know how real everything is. He awakes from his bed and says "move" menacingly while all I was doing was playing a game with my sister. There are no candles in my room tonight. What use are they for lighting an empty domain like mine with light? I feel my heart beating but I do not feel alive. I open my eyes underneath the safety of my two blankets, my mattress being my home within a home, but all I see is black darkness. No outward thought, no inward awareness. Only an eternally powerless body being swung around as a plaything for a bored, mortal god that lives in my house.
I no longer feel emotion, though I still cry bleeding tears. I drink my sorrows away with cola, but what good will it do for the moment? Soon it will be gone, I'll have none left to drink, and while it is of pleasurable taste, it is only a bandage on a wound thr size of my whole body, that does not bleed.
Whoever heard of a sad clown or a happy storm? Such things do not exist and neither should I, lest the deity known as God Himself weeps for me, surely He does, having pity for a lifeless mortal?
I am already dead. You only stand before a walking corpse, praying for death that will not come and show mercy.
Surely there is peace in a stone cold heart, where worms feast upon the dead...?