Entry One:
That light that you see
It isn't me.
My light is broken there is no way for it to be repaired.
It shattered with shot.
That light was taken with a drop.
It left the body of the dead
As it was resting in a bed.
Clicking the trigger was so easy.
But seeing the blood makes stomachs queasy.
A little girl that was four walked in the room with a teddy.
Her face was painted cold.
Her eyes were glued to her mommy as if she was in bold.
She didn't understand
There was a gun in mommy's hand.
She walked closer to the scene.
And it made her mother scream.
She rested her hands by her fathers side
Patting the blood that covered his eyes.
"Daddy," she had mumbled.
But daddy had no pulse.
His heart was at a stop.
There was no more him.
His light had diminished.
But his life will never be forgot.
The mother must have went mad.
Isn't that quiet sad?
She places the pistol to her temple
Then she counted to three.
"Isabel, it's time to go with daddy."
Turning her face just a little,
She was now looking at the pistol.
By the time three came
Little Isabel face felt of flames.
Her light is now with him.
Yet mine is torn.
