Literature
Why Didn't You Listen?
Here I am, lying on the iced pavement, blood covering my arms and clothes like freshly fallen rain water. My eyes glazed over with the tears which overflow with pain from my aching heart. The air is moist and damp and the only sounds are the harsh pants of my desperation for air and the gentle sound of the rain thudding against the jagged floor. All the world seems to have stopped and nothing else matters. They're all dead now, the only thing left is to carry through with my plan of committing suicide. I've stabbed once already, probably nearly missing my vital organs. Now by creating a huge cut that never seemed to stop bleeding, it yel