The blood twists down the 13 yr old back he whimpers, but doesn't scream he can't scream, wishes he could he wants to run
Run from the red hot embers from the spiders in his bed from the broken bottle in his mothers hand he wants to run and forget every thing that has happened
It hurts for him to speak the bruise on his throat darkens he sees only the cold stone on the cracked wall His father walks down the stair
Leaving the boy to wither and wish for death
demon strait outta_hell · Thu Jul 03, 2008 @ 02:43am · 0 Comments |