Ladyclock

Dear mother: I fail to commit to this sacrifice. If you knew how much of a horrid child I am, you would have killed me yourself. But you did not know. You should have given me to a terrible family: one that deserved to see my loathsome face, but I understand it would have been too cruel a punishment. Too cruel for even a sinner. You have a bigger heart than is good for you. I am not even worthy of death. I am so horrible; I must live and endure it. I just don't deserve the mercy of death. But I can't help but wish to disappear from existence. Even if it's an empty, hopeless, and altogether foolish wish. One that should never be fulfi

Drifting, sighing Slowly, I wander Watching, holding Caressing, wishing Hoping, knowing Slowly, walking Aiming, searching Beyond this life Far away, where Love and tears Are good things Knowing, wanting Wishing, hoping Walking, sighing Running, smiling Laughing, singing Moving on.

 The air felt colder the deeper underground I went. The chill wind that blew through the tunnels whistled eerily, as if they were ghosts living in the darkness, forever trying to escape from the great emptiness. To me, the tunnels left the impression that whatever went in there could never come out. I felt a silence and depth from them that echoed like something I could never describe. It came with a feeling: like someone was trying to remind me of something important, but I couldn't hear her very clearly. Maybe her voice escaped me because I was asleep, dreaming; or maybe I was too far away to hear anything but my own footsteps. One of the

Look upon th' body o' thy friend. Thou wilt'd rose, with they clench'd fist, think o' where thou shall strike mankind, to do "justice"; to double thy pain. Paint th' crimson soil with th' blood, o' thy foes, trust thy reason's right! look upon this, child, and believe the damn'd are your good god's creation. Such "beauty", that such a blood red rose, may grow amongst th' dead bodies, that bear th' joy o' th' flower: mother o' murderous medicine. Rise up against this and do justice, for th' blood o' thy kin that spill'd. Be free o' ignorance's bliss, and instead trust thy holy, red blade. For, all those who choose not to believ