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Knife of a Different Colour

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The tool in my hand cuts into my flesh and I will it to draw blood,but to no avail. This pain I feel inside needs to be fought by something physical,something more real. I’m sobbing,I’m shaking,I feel sick inside and I want everything to stop-just stop. Time will freeze and everything will be alright,because without time I won’t feel pain and pain is life and reality. But I know I won’t do that. Not anytime soon at least. I could run, but to where? I’ll be chased,dragged back. There are things I need to stay for anyways, things that I love immensely but that caused this mess. Things that,if I were to lose them,would wreck me. Things that have finally made me feel whole for the first real time in my life. I’ve been told,tugged and trampled. I’ve fought,feared and forgotten. I’ve loved,I’ve lost,but most of all I’ve lasted. Long enough to taste freedom even, and it tastes better than I ever could have imagined.




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Kilikilakia2012 said...
Aug. 15, 2012 at 11:03 pm:
that was very good. :) I like how it's so bold and open yet so hidden at the same time. You did a very good job. :)
 
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futurenovelist1577This teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Mar. 7, 2012 at 8:11 pm:
I Loved It. Wish there would've been space after the commas but I truly enjoyed it. Exspecially the way you finished off. Keep writing!
 
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