A small simple safe price, rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets. This is not a small cut that scabs and dries and flakes and heals, and I am not afraid to die. I am not afraid to bleed and ******** and fight; I want the pain of payment. Whats left but a section of pigme sized cuts much like a slew of a thousand unwanted ********. Would you be my little cut? Would you be my thousand ********, and make a mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid, to fill and spill over and under my thoughts. My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the gutter. I'm cutting, trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything especially a ******** knife.
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Cronicles of one of the Fallen
An account from one of the few who flew with the grace of God,
Challenged the sun, and was burned from the Heavens
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a breeze that smelled of wide-open spaces, of limitless skies and bright sun, of ice and high mountains.
It was the wind from the dark angels wings.
User Comments: [1] [add]
User Comments: [1] [add]
Community Member
i think i did a really great job on it but if you don't think so .... by all means critize...critizize... crititzie... or however you spell that word