Her eyes burned. A thick ruined paiting of black and other dark hues ran down her cheeks. She was the weak. She watched the last bits of sun leave the day. Her bed was soft, but offered no solace. Her friends were kind, but did not embrace her. She felt cold and alone and her arms were not enough to support herself. She stared at a spot on the wall, and her body was still like a corpse. Often she felt alone inside. Eaten from in. A smile was a good mask to fake, but it didn't work for herself. The mirror was covered and the room grew dark. But the spot on the wall did not change. The room grew colder, and for moments she didn't blink. Her wings sat on a chair nearby next to the bent cheap halo that she had adored. She's better than that now. Older. Or just out of touch with being a kid. She felt mortal, and weak. Her eyes were heavy and tired. Her energy was spent on emotions. She had to concentrate to breathe. Her heart gave up on her. She closed her eyes, her lips parted, but not open. The night went on and the stars went up. But she did not see them. Sleep had taken her. As had the cold.
 Made27 · Sat Feb 05, 2005 @ 01:43am · 0 Comments |
