let's have a killing spreeForgotten like an old teddy bear, she was laid to rest. There was no one to save her from herself. It was useless to fight. What of the god who was suppose to be her savior? Where was he and his judgment? He allowed her to be abused in such violent and horrific ways.What of me though? I saw what went down that night. But I allowed that to happen. I seen the signs of neglect. The scares on her person, the blood that stained her skin. But, as the others, I choose to ignore. I choose the safe side, the side that closed their eyes and cover their ears. And I pretended that everything was okay. When it was not.She came to me that day, asking if she could borrow my science book. Saying that she was behind and needed to catch up. Like the gentleman I was, I said yes. Did I not look twice, I would have not noticed the bruise on her out stretched arm. But, I did look, and I became concerned. A little to late though. The damage was done.That very night, she called me to the scene of the crime
My NightmareWhen did this pain begin?No, when does it end?I don't think that pain can ever begin.You are born with it, it lives in you.Pain is part of what you are.Ever since you were young, you were in pain.Loseing a toy or a blanket brought tears to your eyesA young child falling while takeing its first stepsYou can't hide in a bubble.Pain is in you.Again, when does it end?It will never go away.Pills, drugs, other sources of mind ripping mental torturecan never cure this mind gameA mase only you can figure outA part of you that you have to fightThere is no way of getting awayNot even death can disconfigure this puzzleAt times, I even wish I could go to a placeA place where there isn't hurt.But, hey, I made place a living hell.My choices caused my Pain to take form.I live with what I done, and I can truly say that...Life Is A Fucking Nightmare
Why?Drenched in bloodfeeling betrayedNothing in the world mattered more than wanting revangeMurder seemed easyLike breathingCutting wrist in the new light of dawnWishing that the sun would never come upHearing the whispers of the tourtured soulsAnd wakeing to the sight of dead corpsesWould God want thisFor a child with hopes and dreamsWoud he want this poor soul to see what I've seenSee the ones you love most, goneIn the darkness, she sits aloneBetrayed by those who you thought loved youBut turned out to lie in your faceWhy would he want thatWhy would he want a pathitic child like me?