rightioushate
12-30-2006, 10:15 AM
he looked at the night skys the only way he know how to.
a roar of painfull thunder screemed across the sky.
pain.
that word pain.
it doesn't apply to him anymore.
he knows no more pain. pain was ripped out of his soul. everything was ripped out his soul, as his pride was raped.
he was recreated. his heart decieved so many times, that it no longer exists. his heart is dead. a scar took its place.
his soul. no such word exists anymore. it was burnerd slowly just enough to feel whats left of a sting. the ashes are gone. a shadow took the place of what was supposed to be his soul.
he slowly walked down the edge, only having the echo of his boots barely break the silence. silence is whats left of his identity. they, he thought to himself . they created him. and now he looks to strike revenge...no...punishment if any word can describe his intentions into the core and souls of the men that created him.
its raining.
he picked up the shattered bloodstained piece of mirror off the ground. he looked into it only to see whats left of him. he is nolonger a human. humanity no longer exists in this world. only animals we call people destroying themselvs and what nature left us for their own good. he is a wanderer now. a wanderer for revenge. an image he nolonger wishes to see. he crushes the broken piece of mirrir, shattering it into many pieces, cutting his skin. he didnt feel it even as the stained liquid ran and dripped down his fingers. the rain washed it off.
another ligtning lit across the sky, revealing a glimpse of his pale face. a smile. a smile not of joy...but that of the sick and twisted thoughts that ran through his head. thoughts unimaginable. thoughts of horrer. he enjoyed every minute. its as if he was feeding off the pain that was inflected onto him, pain he cannot feel. tonight was the night he will inject bits and pieces of that same pain into the hearts of the men who "created him"
it stopped raining. he whispered under his breath.
"its time"
a roar of painfull thunder screemed across the sky.
pain.
that word pain.
it doesn't apply to him anymore.
he knows no more pain. pain was ripped out of his soul. everything was ripped out his soul, as his pride was raped.
he was recreated. his heart decieved so many times, that it no longer exists. his heart is dead. a scar took its place.
his soul. no such word exists anymore. it was burnerd slowly just enough to feel whats left of a sting. the ashes are gone. a shadow took the place of what was supposed to be his soul.
he slowly walked down the edge, only having the echo of his boots barely break the silence. silence is whats left of his identity. they, he thought to himself . they created him. and now he looks to strike revenge...no...punishment if any word can describe his intentions into the core and souls of the men that created him.
its raining.
he picked up the shattered bloodstained piece of mirror off the ground. he looked into it only to see whats left of him. he is nolonger a human. humanity no longer exists in this world. only animals we call people destroying themselvs and what nature left us for their own good. he is a wanderer now. a wanderer for revenge. an image he nolonger wishes to see. he crushes the broken piece of mirrir, shattering it into many pieces, cutting his skin. he didnt feel it even as the stained liquid ran and dripped down his fingers. the rain washed it off.
another ligtning lit across the sky, revealing a glimpse of his pale face. a smile. a smile not of joy...but that of the sick and twisted thoughts that ran through his head. thoughts unimaginable. thoughts of horrer. he enjoyed every minute. its as if he was feeding off the pain that was inflected onto him, pain he cannot feel. tonight was the night he will inject bits and pieces of that same pain into the hearts of the men who "created him"
it stopped raining. he whispered under his breath.
"its time"