She sits beside me,
day by day,
yet when I turn to look at her
she looks away,
as if the thoughts are too much,
as if the violence is too gory,
as if the compulsions are too strong.
But I know that somewhere inside,
she understands.
She understands that even though I can't always see her,
I will always have a part of her inside me,
so as I give in to the whisperers of the evil,
tormented souls,
I will say sorry,
and I will kill.
And one day I will slip away,
to the voices that never stop,
to the shadows that never stay,
and then I will be like the girl
the girl I used to be
and she will be like me.
YOU ARE READING
Based
Short StoryEvery picture tells a story, And every story paints a picture, So why can I not use a picture to tell a story? I do not own any of these pictures. All works in this book are fiction. (Please let me know if you would like me to tag anyt...
