I looked down, and the crimson madness flowing from my forearm was not letting out.
Watching it flow, always straight down.
There was strange comfort in this, like no matter what my blood will run red.
No one would suspect the perfect daughter of the perfect family had a dirty little secret.
that she wasn’t always smiling, oh no no.
In this cellar was the only place where i was actually me. I am the red flow, i am the cold stone floor, i am the damp concrete walls, I am the bleek depressing music blaring from my fried speakers.
and thats all i wanted to be.
In reality i have no goals, no motivation, no love, just deep rooted hate.
I looked down, and the flow hadn’t stopped.
I started to lose my balance.
I got closer and closer to the floor, until SMACK I hit it hard.
Is this it? Is it finally over.. Is this my curtain call?
and i slipped out of conciousness.