A Little LieHis voice is just enough to get me through the day. He has done things. I am still innocent. But as I speak to him I let my guard down. I let him see, someone that no one knows. Because I have shared this with him. His secrets are my secrets. What he tells me, I shall take to my grave. I have promised this. I don't know if it mattered. But I said it, and there is no taking anything back. I tell him the truth. Everything except what I know he doesn't want to hear. I ask about him. He replies. It doesn't matter how much I share with him; it's all the same. If this was a phone conversation, he would just wait for his time to speak, or not at all. I know this because everyone is like this. They believe that they are special. Even though they have their flaws, someone has it worse than them. This is truth, but it doesn't make them better. He says that he's the kind of person that considers other peoples feelings. I reply with a known fact. To keep myself from telling him what I really think
FrictionThe sounds echoed loudly in the small humble dwelling. Herein lies the family, called family by forces of nature. They separate into their own little corners, avoiding any contact with each other, in fear that that may be the end.
In such collisions, there are only two competitors, those who feel wronged and those that have been wronged, but most of the time, they are one in the same. Their voices sounding hushed at first, as if not to startle those around them, but soon enough the conversation escalates into a battle of respect and honor, one that the eldest is quick to win, but not swift to end. The younger holds on for dear life, says something out of turn and receives punishment for this act of disgrace.
The witness to all this hides in her corner, ears plugged, legs hugged, rocking back and forth and wishing, praying, hoping that this will stop. She know that when it stops, it will start again with a vengeance pulling everything and everyone into its path of destruction. Knowing t
No ChoiceThis wasn't how she wanted it. She wanted to get out with her hands clean, and her conscience, if she had one, at ease. There was no way to escape it. She dug the hole, her face smeared with dirt and perspiration. This was what it came down to, digging a ditch in the middle of nowhere. She was sent to make amends. It was what she did. Up until now. Up until now, she had no emotions, no feelings of regret or remorse. She was not a person but a thing. A thing to be used and manipulated. She was supposed to make him not so alive anymore. Get him to trust her, love her. Then off him. But she made a mistake. She told him the truth. She told him the truth about everything. About her, about what she was really here for, about what he had done. And he freaked. Her backup came in and it was over. He was over. No more. Kaput. The only person in the world who knew the truth, her truth killed. The man that stood above her murdered the only person that could've ever truly loved her. It was just bus
SorryA lot of people say they are sorry but don't mean it. She sat by herself, at the very edge of the couch, as if falling off the edge didn't concern her. It was a very beautiful day outside, but in here, it was just depressing. She had a black itchy dress on, that she had been kindly persuaded to wear and every so often you could see her pulling at it. It supposed to be a sad day, but this, this was unbearable. She went through the whole mourning period already. Staying in her bed for four days, only eating, which she was forced to do and going to the bathroom that was attached to her room. She was done being sad, and all this dreary stuff was just a reminder of that pain. That pain that she had worked so hard to not feel. He was gone and there was nothing she could about it, so she accepted it. She was ready to move on, but this, this was holding her back. They passed by, the old men and the withered housewives, stopping by to drop off a disgusting inedible casserole that later on she w
Blinding LightIt's blinding, this light and as the wind blows,
I feel nothing.
Trying to steal back the pieces of emotion taken from me
Walking through this tunnel of light
There is no end
And as I walk, I feel death.
There is no struggle,
Because it's got me right where it wants me.
Silent but sweet and alluring,
Convincing my conscious to bear down and finish me off.
There's no use in fighting,
The battle is already won.