Blood drips,
blood flows,
from the rips in their skins,
I know you see them,
I know you can taste it,
the thickness,
the warmth,
it empties,
but yet their hearts still beat,
like straws in empty cups,
sucking up the last few drops,
and then,
no more,
silence,
welcome to my home,
welcome to the darkness that I live in,
welcome to your end,
don’t believe his words,
don’t believe his lies,
there is no more to write,
there is only goodbye.
Like I’ve always said the power is in the story, the best thing about dark stories you get to drag your reader kicking and screaming the entire way, but then I got issues good job!
👍 ƃuᴉssǝlq ɐ ǝɹɐ sǝnssᴉ ‘sᴉɥʇ ǝʞᴉl ǝʇᴉɹʍ oʇ pu∀ ˙ǝɹɐɥs oʇ ǝʌᴉl I spɹoʍ ɟo ssǝuʞɹɐp ǝɥʇ ƃuᴉʎoɾuǝ ɹoɟ sʞuɐɥ┴ ˙ǝɔuɐʇdǝɔɔɐ ɟo ǝɔuɐp ǝɥʇ ǝɔuɐp uǝʇʇᴉɹʍ puɐ uǝʞods spɹoʍ ɹǝɥʇo ǝɥʇ llɐ sǝʞɐɯ ‘ʇuǝɯoɯ ɐ ɹoɟ uǝʌǝ ‘ɹoɹɹǝʇ lǝǝɟ ɯǝɥʇ ǝʞɐɯ puɐ ‘spɹoʍ ɥʇᴉʍ ssǝuʞɹɐp ǝɥʇ oʇuᴉ ǝuoǝɯos llnd o┴
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