My torments renewed
a sigh designated, to my ancient feud
I don't believe anyone, anything...
She that hath made me as a king...
How carelessly daunting
How decidedly Flaunting
My joints freeze up
My brain twisted full backwards
The words choke in my breath,
gaping, horrible, rambling, spewing forth those wicked convictions
The blood curdling scream is my sole comfort.
and it happens to come suspicously short.
Plain as text, Her and her cohort.
This fete of her betrayal.
I sit in my room, more and more frail.
In my pile of clothes, weaping at woes.
"How could she do this" I routinely remarked.
I thought back to my ca
I'm sure many have done it.
Flipping randomly though an old journal-ish, thing... really something that was used as general scrap... I scribbled some thoughts about my Father, and his apparent unfavorable beholding of my contemporaneous relationship, a bit later, notes on my novel, which has since been turned into a screenplay.... Notes from Myst III gameplay.... various other attempts to lose myself then.
And then I came upon an entry which was not written by me, but someone else.
I tore it out, and layed it in front of me, to decide whether or not I should discard it.
I was pondering it, whilst I surveyed the half ruffled fresh tear fro
This week, my soul has bleed.
The 5th and 6th marked 3 years since I started dating my ex fianse'. (yes, we had two days.)
Our would be third aniversary. hmph.
Right now... all of the hurt, all of the betrayal that I've felt in the past isn't present, and I just miss her.
Attempts to meet with her have met with failure.
Oh well. Back to work.