Foot StepsFoot Stepsfootsteps unseen unheard,the ring of them echoing off the walls like bullets,the deepening chime of them like hollow bells,where the symmetric walls bounce them off like speakers,amplifying or softening the cold blows of noise,once more,the foot steps cease to be heard,forgotton at a word....
SkinSkinI've looked at my skin a hundred times,the soft skin, the dry skin, the leathery skin,I've had it all,a day of fate,I see a brown spot,that was not of others.I worried for months and months,I finally went to the doctors,whom said they'd have to take it,I waited for weeks worrying,finally I got the message results were in,It was benign,I let out a long held breath,and cried.
Random child's rhyme I came up withRandom Rhyme at a time:sitting on a stump,reminding me why this hump of a lump,falls to the ground and goes bump,so I slump and I grump,since there's no point to tumpt,since it's not a word,that I've never heard,and to speak of a rhyme,one at a time,is to make sense,at no suspence,so we all sit on that one stump,being grumps waiting for the hump of a lump to go bump.
Randi's last standblood on a sword:You say you can hear,a heartbeat's last pulse,through a blade of an enemie's sword,the dark prim rose of hatred,the life you had left,you see infront of you out of reach,those faces you've left,those faces you've killed,and right beside all of it is your bloodied sword,you lift it at a final attempt to slay the beast,but in the end,you stand infront of a mirror,a shattered mirror,with vodka on your breath.
dad....To DadHey,why is it that you chose her over family,isn't enough that you wanted an abortion?I'm sorry I'm not perfect, but neither are you,just wait till all your kids abandon you,you are cruel and decieving,I hope you choke,don't lie again,you deserve a rope,so cry as we leave, so cry and cry,but there's no pity in our eyes,we're tired of all the fights,the late night rants that never cease,wait till I'm 18, and I'll be waving bye.
The End- beginningTHE END:Frost on the ground, her breath in the crisp fall smell. The chill of the morning air making her shift restlessly from foot to foot waiting for the bus to come but it seemed like forever before she stepped onto that bus
.. Like she always does, she plunks down on a seat two seats back from the emergency window. She props herself on the bus's wheel drum and then she listens to music while either asleep or watching the world pass by like a silent film would. Seasons change as the will of others do when in doubt, the seamless line before summer and fall like a crumbling wall of a once great castle
.always changing and moving. The ring or cycle funneling through our minds faster than we can process
..fall is here. We are here, and life
..is life.Derek Fisher wasn't really the one people would expect to be a total geek. He seemed like one of those technologically smart punk. With purple hair and grey eyes, he wasn't the ea