November 10, 2012
In a field of white flowers I lay, and as I lay upon them, my blood spills covering them like red frosting. Yet my blood is not sweet as it is bitter. I watch the majestic black and purple sky, and a mirror hovers above me slowly. I look into it and realize that there was a hole in my chest…. My heart was gone. I didn’t understand what was going on. I turned my head and saw a wooden, rusted, bloody box. It was covered with nail, as if you had to go through the pain as you reveal what was inside. So as I picked up the box, the nails stabbed me, blood streaming down my arms. Yet I fear no pain. So I open it with my bloody fingers, I hear a beat as I open it. It was the beating of my black heart, it sounded strange like some kind of song…. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I didn’t want to hear the pounding in my head! It wouldn’t go away. So I took two bloody nails that were pierced into my flesh and I destroyed it. Then I realized that the beating of my black heart was my deadly lullaby. Yet I fear life, not death.

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