Wolfhunter139

This is too sudden. I stand, my voice raises involuntarily into a shrill yell, "What do you MEAN I'm going into the army?! I didn't volunteer! I didn't even..." I sit in shock, my eyes most likely wide as saucers and my rusty hair tousled. I expected to live a happy life, marry someone nice, work in the shop until retirement. Not this. He sighs, and reaches a chubby hand down to pat my head. "Don't worry about it. You'll have time to say goodbye to your friends, and your family will get a lot of money." He says, without the slightest spark of interest or want to argue. I leave with no other comment, except asking what time I need to be at

With cruelty and despair The world runs its ways Without remorse, nor justice Nor reality for the sick With white curtains and blue walls The ceiling light He writes away At the horror befalling. The sheet is his canvas A single white world The pen is his mastery To ruin it in black. The moments of freedom He expresses in his story Sweetest satisfaction Befalling the plot. He's locked in this room, No doors or escape He'll write 'till his end and not stop after even that. His tears create sorrow His smile creates serendipity His frustrated scribbling creates the wars But then ends them as well. When will he stop? Noon

Red red, it covered my ears It covered my eyes with sweetest demise. Noone would save me, noone would look At the beggar who's begging, the crooked old crook. Not the seeker nor preacher, not the lover or friend Could save this dear life from such a horrid end. From the end of a gun, from the blade of a knife Not even the rope, taught with my strife. I tried, I did to save the body before me I tried to survive with her love holding on me But no matter what happened, she still was astray And noone would know Just what happened that day. Where are the heavens, way up in the sky.. If they were here I'd see them Not demons that fly