The pain...when it comes it gets worse every time.
This time I heard violins. It was a sad song...no not the romanticized slow sad song...but a medium paced sad song, the kind they would play for the helpless child that dies from something inevitable. He runs and runs from it. But we all know he will die, even though he doesn't deserve to. Life is bitter sweet that way. That's the taste left in my mouth. The bitter sweet taste of my life. I feel it coming. Looming in the darkness. The tears come more often now, and there are moments where I think I am already gone. I made a promise once....to a little girl..I promised I'd wait for it to come and not take care of it myself. I think she knew. Of course she knew. She knew that one day...it would cross my mind...not at the front..but in the subconsciousness. Looming there. My choice. So she made sure it wasn't my choice to make, by making me promise a promise I couldn't break. What is it about those blood red violins...their strings are his fingers..his boney fingers reaching...reaching... sometimes I feel his fingers around my throat and I'm choking, gasping, swallowing my tears.
A heath teacher long ago said that people end it simply because they "Want the pain to end". I thought that was a foolish reason back then..but I understand now. Though, I know that my pain comes and goes. And soon it will ebb and fade...the truth once again concealed in it's tiny paper box.
How long?
How long before it rips?
This time I heard violins. It was a sad song...no not the romanticized slow sad song...but a medium paced sad song, the kind they would play for the helpless child that dies from something inevitable. He runs and runs from it. But we all know he will die, even though he doesn't deserve to. Life is bitter sweet that way. That's the taste left in my mouth. The bitter sweet taste of my life. I feel it coming. Looming in the darkness. The tears come more often now, and there are moments where I think I am already gone. I made a promise once....to a little girl..I promised I'd wait for it to come and not take care of it myself. I think she knew. Of course she knew. She knew that one day...it would cross my mind...not at the front..but in the subconsciousness. Looming there. My choice. So she made sure it wasn't my choice to make, by making me promise a promise I couldn't break. What is it about those blood red violins...their strings are his fingers..his boney fingers reaching...reaching... sometimes I feel his fingers around my throat and I'm choking, gasping, swallowing my tears.
A heath teacher long ago said that people end it simply because they "Want the pain to end". I thought that was a foolish reason back then..but I understand now. Though, I know that my pain comes and goes. And soon it will ebb and fade...the truth once again concealed in it's tiny paper box.
How long?
How long before it rips?
