October 22, 2010

One of those Writing Prompts

I love autumn. The crisp leaves and cool air. But it's only hiding what's actually coming. Winter. Yes, repeat it. Winter. I'm not looking forward to winter this year. Or Christmas. To be honest, I could care less. Strange, hmm? Seems coldhearted as well. But... that's how I feel. I don't want to relive it all. The suicide. The blood splattered everywhere. Running up there and seeing, not glancing, not looking. Seeing the movement he made and the last gasp for air only to reveal his last words: "This is a city of devils." Christmas morning, Santa gave me a surprising present. The death of my brother. This Christmas, I won't celebrate. I'll be painted black for the loss of my brother. I can't even write my emotions, my true feelings. If I do, I'll be craving into this page. There's no thanks, only loss. Screw this hated world.


What do you think?

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