I think I'll try my hand at a poem of some sort.
...
I don't know...
Anything I create seems lost to me as soon as I finish thinking it through in my mind. It never comes out the same...
A Child,
Yet not a Child.
A Child within her Self.
A need,
The most basic of needs;
A need she did not understand;
Within her Self.
Struggling she got up;
Refusing to run.
And found, staring,
The blade in her eye.
A blade in a hand,
On an arm,
With a face,
With cold eyes.
Eyes which did not blink
As her screams
Slowly died.
Murder so senseless...
Murder so senseless...
A thief in the dark!
A thief who now,
Smirking,
Smiled and made his mark.
Not a thief then,
Something more...
Some Thing,
That was now smiling
As her blood slowly defiled the Floor.
A Thing that found pure joy
In nothing, anymore.
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Oh, so you thought you would get to know me better by reading this?
I POINT AND LAUGH AT YOU.
I POINT AND LAUGH AT YOU.