This world makes me sick. All the birdies are gross mommy, they'll make me sick won't they? I'd better stay away from them. I don't want to get sick. Sick like you mommy. Sick. Sick sick sick. Yuck.
YOU ARE READING
A journal of the criminally insane.
HorrorYou know, I can still hear her voice sometimes, or her last breath. I wanted to catch it in a jar so she would never stop breathing. So that she would not be lost. But that wouldn’t have saved her. Nothing could. She’s gone. And she’s never coming...
