Sentiments

10/31 11:50 PM
In all my memories, there is nothing I remember more. Nothing that I'd be more willing to die for. Something that I'd love to hear, and something in which without it all I can do is fear. Dearest father, play me a record as I look upon you. Play me your pride and joy. I remember how it played the day you died. How it played on the day your soul was set free. How there was the crackle as you lay limp on the couch. Numb and unaware. Unaware of the fact that there I was, a black shadow that was coming upon you. It was only fair, That through the blackest halls come me. Creeping slowly. As to not wake you from your slumber. I stood over you and saw from behind, how you opened your eyes. You weren't happy, I'm afraid as I slipped the garrote around your throat. How I remember how loud you'd croak. How hard you'd flail, as a stranger of your own sperm strangled you. So my dearest sentiments, and play me a tune on your record like the day you were done for...
La dee dum.
10/31 12:00 AM
In all my memories, there is nothing I remember more. Nothing that I'd be more willing to die for. Something that I'd love to hear, and something in which without it all I can do is fear. Dearest mother, sing me a song. Tell me how I am in no wrong. Bringing back memories of the time you lied, all the way to the time you died. When I followed you to the woods. In between the shadows is where I lurked. I watched you as you worked. Watched as you worked another man. Grasping the dead trees as you found your blackened soul on your knees. An anonymous onlooker is what I was. A ghost that only looked. Spill the blood is what my knife does. Thinking you'd return to dead hubby in an hour. You made a concoction most sour. When you were done and said your goodbyes. Lay down breathless is what you did. When you looked for the source of my breath is when I hid. I lunged and took the knife and spilled your lies. In the darkness that you have grown so accustomed to, the lights went out for you. I laughed so hard I cried. As you screamed and died. So my dearest sentiments and sing me a song like on the day you were done for you worthless whore...
La dee dum.
Category:Mental Illness
Category:Diary/Journal
Category:Poetry