the effects
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Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Wed, Apr 12, 2017
I-I-I I've got a migraine
And my pain will range from up, down, and sideways
Thank God it's Friday cause Fridays will always be better than Sundays
'Cause Sundays are my suicide days
I don't know why they always seem so dismal
Thunderstorms, clouds, snow and a slight drizzle
Whether it's the weather or the ledges by my bed
Sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head
Let it be said what the headache represents
It's me defending in suspense
It's me suspended in a defenseless test
Being tested by a ruthless examiner
That's represented best by my depressing thoughts
I do not have writer's block my writer just hates the clock
It will not let me sleep I guess I'll sleep when I'm dead
And sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head
Am I the only one I know
Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat
Shadows will scream that I'm alone
But I know, we've made it this far, kid
I am not as fine as I seem
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They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.
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