I've been a bulk in this dumpster ten thousand times over and over again.
Beautiful trees covered with snow, how delightful the thought of death upon me is.
Tell me once again a reason to live, ten million reasons to die I'll repeat.
Tell me how someone cares, I'll tell you how there is no one around.
In this dumpster I'll end, a bulk I am after all.
Disposed of I can easily be by others, even those who are meant to care by blood.
Blood is all you'll see, blood is all I see in this beautiful white snow, of all the cuts from my soul.
I've seen my skin bleed I wonder how the wound looks inside my soul.
Tell me again how I am worth living, I'll tell you a million times again how there is nothing worth living for.
A bulk I'll be or at least a beautiful ornament for these trees I'll be...
About the Creator
Dark Fairy
A soul trying to fill its purpose in life.
Keep reading
More stories from Dark Fairy and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author7 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.