Live in Every Moment Like it was your Last

Live in Every Moment Like it was your Last

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Tue, Jun 18, 201912m
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Fiction
Social Themes
The reader goes through the turmoil of a world in which s/he doesn't belong, plagued by an endless abyss of lies and hatred for who they were, and how they were treated. The reader never answers to their name, and they neither care whether they are needed or not. But they shall see to it that they will survive through this tilted balance they call "life"... (A/N) This story is not meant to depict anything horrible or in any way suicidal happening to the author. This is simply a little story that the author has thought of and the format the author is used to... This whole story is meant to put relations with other people and set an understanding that not all people are alone with their problems and that other people may have the same problems...
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A place where true love expires, good people get fired and beings are nothing but dust. Where stalkers are heroes, society makes zeroes and madness is not in the crust. Some people are killers, and that's just the pillars of what is essentially rust. When you feel you are mad, but that isn't so bad in a world that is oh so unjust. They'll kill you by car, or from quite afar in a world where all life is fleeting. Don't try to protect, you'll just end up wrecked, for you know their hearts are not beating. They'll kill you my sweet, and not drop a beat, for my story is only just heating. Power means all, even more for the small, but power has a habit of retreating. The bodies mount up, many lives will breakup, as I'm here to just tell a story. Don't look in the hill, though it is quite a thrill, I've heard it can get quite gory. Don't play with the heart, and don't think you're too smart, or you'll die with none of the glory. All are mad from the start, but you played your part, in the world of pure purgatory. Alas look a ghost, be careful you're not toast, you must want to see what I see. Society is ruthless, protection is fruitless, for in madness is when you are free. Perfection is dead, from the wounds we all bled, a cruel fate we did not foresee. While outsiders are safer, if only by a wafer, you can still hear them utter a plea. Now my story is frightening, but oh so inviting, so come now and give it a whirl. I can promise some danger, so don't be a stranger, watch now - we will see it unfurl.

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