My name is August, and this is the story about how my world died.
At first- the sky was lighted up by a thousands of different colours- like blue- and yellow and orange. And then- it was stardust as long as the human eye could se. It was beautiful. Too beautiful.
I wish I would have known then what I knew now, Maybe then there would still be six of us?
I tap with my fingertips gently on the broken pieces of the wineglass- it is the only thing I got left from them.
A wineglass.
I've never been the one who has been careful about...Being alive. I've never seen life as a gift, to be honest. Never wished for a new morning to grow.
But now, when I was finally ready to feel something, something different. Something real.
It was too late.
The only thing I can hear now is the sound of silence.
And..If you haven't gone trough the unholy sound of the silence, you can never imagine how fast it can drive you crazy.
YOU ARE READING
The end of my world
PoetryMy name is August, and this is the story about how my world died.
