Breathe [Collection of Short Stories/Spoken Word]

Lost

Do you hear that?

She stood, surrounded by black - confused; scared - her sanity was on the verge of this track.

Do you hear that?

Visions and memories and an almost adolescent addiction - he was no longer her ambition. She didn't bother to audition as a soul to sell. Blue, round eyes - a constant reminder everywhere of this depression, this suspension of a love she was supposed to have. Withered away; gone - forever. Moreover, she was a rose flower made by the prestigious ancient Lord to have dissevered. Petal ripped off piece by piece - for to him, this was his treat. A constant beat - a man no woman would ever want to meet - a disease that had no chance to excrete - the doctor's said it wouldn't metastasize - but it did.
It got a hold of her, and it wouldn't let go. She had a heart, in which one had easily broke.

Do you hear that?

Beds creaking, and whimpering cries. Will these be constant reminders of nearly daily actions that made her want to die? She was no longer a rose - she were the weeds, every gardener had scooped up from their garden. Nobody wanted her - and she wanted no one.

This start of insanity, had already begun.