Wet eyelashes and cheeks, uneven breathing as the lungs expand and contract in pain,
Vines that latch onto the skin with thorns, making it bleed, painful.
Cupped hands over the ears, the ringing wont stop.
"Shut up! Just get out and die! I will never be saved from myself!"
The voices scream louder than they used to, it hurts the holes in the ears, the endless ringing and crystal rivers of tears trickling from those pearls of eyes onto the bleeding skin.
Good child, good kid, good adult,
Bad child, bad kid, bad adult.
Monsterous individual.
The crimson of the blood pour out of the wounds inflicted by the thorns,similar to pulling the heart strings slowly, then ripping them out forcefully.
"If I play the good kid, I'll get hurt more than I need! If I ignore it, it will make me seem like a monster and full of guilt! The guilt would eat me up slowly!"
Innocence of a lifetime is tragic, rain droplets on sensitive porcelain skin.
Kill a soul.
