The Other Half

Capter 2: Mama

Chandler:

   Mama, we all go to hell.
Mama we all go to hell, I'm writing this letter and wishing you well.
Mama we all go to hell.
And when we go don't blame us, yeah heah! You make me feel so famous.

"Chandler turn that satanic music off, NOW!" My bitch of a mother ordered.
"Mama, we all indeed go to hell!" I yelled, turning it off to the knowledge of me getting slapped, plugged my headphones in, put them over my ears, threw my bag over my shoulder and jogged off.

Mama we're meant for the flies.

My mother knows that we are all meant to die and rot. The flies will come for us.

And when we go don't blame us! You're fire and comes face us, I'll never let you go.
She said you ain't no son of mine.

I am not her child.
She sent me off with my sibling once, military camp, and well, my brother didn't survive, that's why she hates me.
I couldn't save him.

If you call me a sweetheart and maybe then i would sing you a song.
But there's shit that I've done and I raise a gun.

There's shit I've done that my mother just doesn't get.
I've beat a kid.
Made a girl cry.
Hell, I looked my mother dead in the eye and told her we all are going to hell.

But it's true.

We do all go to hell. And it can't be stopped.

Ever so lazily I got up, went to my shelve of hair needs, then proceeded to style my hair my hair that I had dyed(of course without my mothers consent) dark cherry red, pulled on my black shirt that had the cover for The Black Parade, my custom made jacket that was a very bright blue,  the jacket to add was leather, with a patch of a picture an angel wing and then in and oval read 'Dead Angel' the back read 'Blue Comet' then tugged on my black pants(so creative wow) and my combat boots, then popped up the collar of my jacket, then pulled on my bag that I had my boyfriend made(it was a white tie bag, with band logos on it, pleasing) then brushed my teeth because hygiene, and ran out the door to my car.

"Dyke."
"Fag."
"Emo."
"Goth."
"Just go overdose."

Fuck this.