The day
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WpMetadataReadComplete Sun, Dec 1, 2013<5 mins
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Poetry
Just another day, an average day, nothing but a moment. None of these phrases describe September 24, that fatal day stripped me of my purity and forcefully stole multiple parts of my heart and all I could do was watch. Watch... as my mother clutched at her heart and her life slowly faded. Even though it was her breath that was being taken away, I still find it hard to catch mine. But now I have to stop dwelling on the pass, an use that day to help me move on.
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#202
troubles
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It started when the rain fell. As it hit the windows rhythmically, I fought my sleep. Fighting off the demons in my dreams. I hadn't realized how real that dream became. Waking up to terrified screaming. My heart racing, the lighting striking and my family begging for their lives. I claimed myself as a coward that very same night. I hated myself. My depression became the best of me. What's worst then your family being slaughtered? Hiding in the closet from the killers. I should've helped, I should've been there for them. The pain between my chest and stomach was growing guilt. So I started thinking smart. Looking at everyone differently. I decided to reopen their cold cases. And when I found the truth it hit me deep.

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