The torn flesh, created to be washed away. All hope for the owner, lost.
Like a bird on the horizon, there for the moment then gone the next.
An endless coliseum within, emotions fighting like gladiators. The aftermath is, horrid beyond belief. Scattered thoughts simply there, in a state of peace.
But it's not like that, they feel grieve that the one they love left them and scattered them. Never to be seen by the truest of hearts, only the darkest.
The ones left will only fall out of place. Like sharp and jagged points, everlasting pain comes. Then even the points will feel pain and break. A cycle of hell and torment.
Why must we do this? All end in pain, but maybe if you cut the loses away pain will go to. Maybe if you take the thoughts away you'll go to. A place of peace and prosperity. To simply do would help.
