A forlorn figure with long nails and longer hair sat down on the bed, the pristinely made bed shifting under the weight. Theo’s deep, husky voice whispered secrets to the strange man in the mirror whose eye bags were practically a bomb threat. A girl no one had seen yet surprised herself with newly gathered courage hen she stood, turned the mirror around, and clicked the light on.
For My Ink
I remember the days when I was highly respected, when I was a prolific success back before I let it slip where I get my inspiration from. Today I have a small desk in a cubicle, one stack of paper and one pen with no ink. And today I realized: all I have to do is put up a fight until I win back what used to be mine; so I scream and scream “GIVE ME SOME DAMN INK OR I’M LEAVING YOUR SORRY ASSES IN MY DUST.”
There was never going to be hope for me, I know I was born to die. But I still tried to run free just once, to feel alive for just one day, to breathe and succeed and have something just for me. I was doomed to fail.