My palms are sweaty,
my knees are weak,
and my arms are spaghetti,
but I cannot lose myself to the music...
because I do not have any.
I never got one chance,
and I never will.
I sit here with loud gibberish swarming around me.
I cannot detect who is talking;
the bag over my head prohibits me from knowing anything but darkness,
and maybe that's the way I like it.
Everything that's happened to me in my horrific past is gone,
and I soon will be too.
I sit here with my thoughts.
I am on my knees,
praying to the god in the sky of blue
praying to the god that I thought I knew.
I am getting freedom from this hell people call life.
I feel an itch on the back of my neck.
The end... not only to the story, but to the girl's tragic life.