Running. That’s all I could ever remember doing all my life. I had always run from something, be it gun shots or from my own abusive family. I had never wanted things to end up this way. They all disowned me because of a reason that was not clear to me. I never did anything wrong. Apparently I was not the child that they were looking for. Probably why they through me out on the street, why I had to raise myself. Why I never had any friends, or met any people. Hell I had never even seen myself in the mirror until age fifteen. I then saw what made me different. I was paler then everybody else. My eyes where deep, crimson red; full of the hatred of many years. The hatred that comes from a heartless family. I knew that I was different from that point on. That’s when I decided it was my role to kill anybody or anything that ever disowned me without knowing me. My family was the first to go. It appeared in news papers for a couple weeks. There where no leads, no fingerprints. Just the simple fact that their blood covered the walls the only reason they figured out that they died was the fact that they found one body. Still they could never find me. No one dared question it. They just put the case away. They thought it was over. Then of course the case came back after three more killings. All happening the same way, nothing would bring me any peace.
There she stood. Her welcoming caress beckoning me towards her. I smiled and walked towards her. No matter how much I ran, she never got closer. I reached out to touch her, but all I felt was the pain as she moved just out of my reach. I woke up at that time. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t remember why I had cried over that. I cried for hours over it. I had thought that I finally found someone willing to take me in from the bitter world I had been in. After that I closed off from reality. What was the point of living if you didn’t know happiness?
My name is Dusk, and I hate you all. You refused to accept me, so I refuse to live in this world. Maybe if you would talk to me I would actually not go through with this. Maybe if anybody would talk to me…
Write to Live; Live to Read: Poetry
A gathering of poetic people who help each other grow in their poetic ablilites.
