He stood there, pain its self ignited into a huge flair of inferno. At that moment he couldn’t tell if he was living or simply surviving. Then they clasped him, agony ruptured into anger. Crimson covered their hand as they fell back into disbelief. Why you wonder, ask the piece of metal that keeps getting the better of him. You'd soon come to realise 'the boy' in the mirror is still here. Undergone exception, nothing getting better I mean look at the mirror .
The fire inside is burning and isn’t stopping. The scars are building his wall. He looks in the mirror and falls to the ground, what does he see?
A huge blob of pity, lines engraved into him. He throws up, stomach in knots, his phone case slips off to reveal a blade. He's a magnet. Worth more than a stupid piece of metal but he can’t see that. Who’s telling him?
Alone with his head. His heads always going to win. It’s finished, the fire has been dampened. Now what. Do I sink, swim or simply disappear. The end is always beautiful.
