The Taste of my Tears

July 19, 2011
I'm poisoned by an intoxicated drink. I'm drowning my shame, my sorrow and my pain into one chemical. Fading in and out of a dream or what appears to be a dream, I stubble across my own letters and my written work. The words were Greek to me. I was so frustrated and wrestling with this unknown source of rage, I scream and rip my written thoughts apart. As I did the ink spilled like precious crimson blood pouring itself on the floor. The smell was real and the taste was real. Holding the split paper which now covered in unknown blood, my hands tremble with fear and confusion. My heart beaten so quickly. My pigment of skin turned from a soft glow of pink to a blinding color of pure white. Tears cringed down my color flushed cheeks and I fell to my knees. Colors of the room went back to their rightful places. The poison I drank died down and in return gave back my vision to reveal what I've done. Blood cloaked my hands and clothing. I couldn't breathe. The air was consumed by the scent of fresh blood. So much blood. I could taste it in the back of my throat. I was choking on my own blood. I looked down to see a gaping hole where blood oozed through. I couldn't scream for my lungs were filled with blood. My eyes were swelled with tears. The salty tears ran down my cheeks and stopped at the corner of my lips. My eyes were blinded by tears that the colors were washed away and faded to a black abyss. The last I heard was my name being called and then a terrifying shriek coming from a loved one. Faintly I whispered, "I'm so sorry."

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