It was such a beautiful angel, the colors illuminating the darkroom. It was so bright; you could see dust particles flying across. A shadow cast upon the child, one of a man standing tall. This weeping child and the glass that towered above them...
"If you hurt, God will love you." He said softly; the child continued tearing up but complying with what the man said. The child was unkempt with long uncut messy hair, bruises everywhere, and dressed in rags. They looked tired; their face described as sad and soul despondent. With their head hung low and eyes showing nothing but an empty void, the only emotion visible to the naked eye were the tears streaming down. Hopeless and tired tears that reflected off a world they'd given up on long ago. "Does God love me yet?" The girl asked with a broken voice. The man gave her a giddy smile, shaking his head. It dripped with insanity, yet a warm feeling resonated inside it. "We need to cut more to release Satan." He replied, tilting his head slightly as he continued shoving a knife deeper into her arm. Every layer is crossed, from the skin to the bone; she felt it. It sliced like butter and bled like whipped cream. Blood oozing out from under the knife and dripping onto the cold cement floor. "God likes strawberries." The man broke the silence. He used his finger to swipe up a drip of blood drizzling down the girl's arm to show it to her closer. "Try it." He said. She willingly licked it, her face scrunching up with the salty taste. "If you grow more strawberries, God will love you." He said, resting the palm of his hand on her cheek. "You want to be loved, right?" The tired girl, too tired to speak, just nodded faintly in response. The most painful part was when he removed the knife, blood projecting from her arm. "Look, it's a fountain. Isn't it pretty?" The man asked, eyebrows knitting together in hope, his smile weak as he watched the blood fly into the air. He focused his eyes back on the girl as her breathing began to slow and tears ran dry. She didn't speak; she just sat there for a bit, watching it rain strawberries and slowly becoming numb and imploding. Her face was hitting the rough floor. "It's okay." The man said, petting her messy hair as he sat next to her. He adjusted her head, so it laid on his lap like a pillow. "You can sleep now." He whispered, humming a soothing tune. It echoed throughout the room; a quiet and hazy melody rang through the girls' ears. Until everything blurred and drifted off slowly. "Goodnight."
YOU ARE READING
My poems and short stories
PoetryA book of poems/short stories I've made in my spare time to express and cope with my depression and anxiety. A lot of them are sad and deal with s**cidal ideations and attempts that glorify it. I also wrote most of these while I was in a really dark...
