Obsessed with the idea of life and it being swallowed alive
I would tell people that the only truth is change, and to have patience. But
we'd both know that was a lie.
My life started the day i tried to kill myself, but that is a boring
story. What is more interesting is the events leading up to that day. A life
filled with passion and exile. I did everything backwards, and always had an
escape route. I would climb down a mountain before climbing up it.. and if I
got tired I would find a cave and walk through it. Nothing would stop me.
I was planted stern in my ways, letting thoughts flow freely
virus through my vains. My pen hits the paper and my voice echos. Screeching
through walls and tearing down the coldest of hearts. A drop of blood to let them
in... through a door that was always uncomfortable and always locked.
The key was an idea. The idea that everything is connected.
knew what was behind that door, yet you still clawed at it until your fingers bled
and you smelled of old sweat. They would yell at you through a foam filled
jaw. The words, "You damn kids... you're all alike." It would drip out of their mouths
like they'd had to much to drink.
My pen still hits the paper at a collassal rate. I had been
diamonds behind my smile, and you knew this all along. I'd trade you these diamonds
for foam anyday, but its never that easy is it?
This is my life and this is my paper. Do with it what you
but my words shall forever be bound.