I gaze upon the mirror once. Twice.
I see a girl, a very sad girl.
She's around my age.
There are bags under her violet eyes.
Those eyes show determination. Passion.
They are optimistic, careless.
A strong personality.
That's what those eyes show the world.
That is not what I see. I look again.
I see eyes, eyes full of tears.
They are blood shot.
It looks as if they are crying blood.
Those eyes show depression. Anxiety.
They are pessimistic, careful.
A weak personality.
That's how those eyes really feel.
Can't you see? You're killing me.
This soul, this soul is rotten.
It is dying rapidly.
It is losing its colors and will to live.
I long for Death to come. Hurry.
I don't have much time, help.
Relieve me from this.
That's what my soul is crying out to you.
 Annabella Goddess Of Ice · Thu Mar 26, 2009 @ 11:27pm · 0 Comments |
