i walk down the cold silent street. it is dark. it is freezing. my hands are blue and my lips purple from the coldness. i see a shadowed figure in the darkness ahead of me. walking. walking towards me. he is tall. wearing all black. tight shirt. baggy pants. blonde hair, spiked at the top. luminous blue eyes. so blue. bluer than the sky. he is holding a knife. the raindrops glisten as they fall and pitter-patter against the millions of textures amongst us. the knife is silver, sparkling with life. the life of others. the life it will take. my life. not a suicide. a homicide. slowly. slowly stepping out of the shadows of hell and into my life. my freedom has vanished. nothing but pain and misery. friends turned foe. love turned hate. thy friends are thy enemies and thy love is thy only hate. confusion all around us. do i stay? do i go? will i live to see another day? do i even care if i dont? will anyone even care if i dont? dizzy. dizziness in the mind and in the soul. feeling faint. light headed. this is all i know. they are approaching me. with the twist of the blade. stabbing violently now. with a smile. a smile on his face. the smile of a small child who has just awoke to find that school has been delayed. he grabs his sled and goes to play. he is but a mere child. trapped inside the mind of a known killer. the blade, his sled. the pain and hurt, his time to play. i run away now . only to be chased. but why do i run? because i want to be chased. want to be loved to be wanted in return for wanting someone. i am back at home. lying in bed . thinking. thinking about the day. about the night. starring off into nothingness. the pen is in my hand. my thoughts i write. i write out of anger. out of love. out of fear. the ink stains the paper with my emotions. sealing the envelope now. all closed. enclosed within. open the mailbox. send it away. only to find it came back the next day. but not in the form of a letter, you see. it is in the form of a teacher. she opens the door. says "how are you". "fine thank you" i turn away. an envelope sent for no one to read. yet is read and believed. "we have to talk" she says to me. no. no. no. i dont want to talk. i want to be left alone. why can you not see. the fear and the anger, the sorrow in me? the letter was written in hopes to be found. but when found is rejected. rejected by whom? by the person who wrote it. dont believe it. it isnt true. if you think it isnt real it wont be real. will it? the week then ends. another day another memory faded away. the weekend rolls by. cleaning and hurt. anger and sorrow. happiness. love. parents children family. but when monday comes, it will be back. this nightmare that haunts me. a sealed envelope. in your mind it may be fiction. your thoughts, your dreams, your memories. as the ink stains the paper it all becomes true. no lies. no way out. honesty is the best policy. but why does it hurt? if it is the best, i think its the worst. thoughts written on a paper, sent to a friend, or foe. can be as damaging as a blade perhaps. the on a man holds. tall, darkness, wearing black. blond spikes and blue eyes. the scream of a victim. but not of murder. for the killer does not kill. he merely tortures. without a will. left with the pain, memories stained. with the blood of this soul. click. the door opens. will she set you free? no, no, you will not be free. you will stay. you need to stay. you want to stay. yet you want to run. and go away. confusion so deep you cant tell a soul. but you need to find a way. you must let them know. sit down in the chair. the shimmering tears from your dull saddened eyes. why did you send it? this choice was not wise. chewing, knawing, clawing at your mind. eating through your soul. the terrors left behind? it can all end now. with the sound of a voice. speak your mind. or speak your dream. what really is, and what you wish it really was. two different things. you make the choice. the truth or the lie. the her. shes waiting. she needs to know. are you suicidal? you tell her no. you think to yourself. she must not find out. the secret is buried so deep in you now. you can never tell you. now comes the letter. sent with a kiss. "why, why then did you send me this?" the question has come. can you cover it up? the killer within you is screaming to come out. please, please let me out. trapped inside. the lie of a lifetime. do you dare and tell the truth? no. too soon. she will not know what to do. how to react. so you continue on with a lie called your life. your happiness is painted on. like a china doll. the face is so pretty. but once uncovered is dull. sharp blades of rock and glass. covered by a porclin mask. you smile. she hugs. tell her your okay. you leave and move on to yet another day. a day full of fun and laughter and joy. full of porclin and a disguise so unique. it fools everyone. you sleep at night with worries and cries. you awake the next day and say your goodbyes. grab the knife. the killers knife. blue eyes that stand out. dressed in all black. thoughts through your mind. is it really my time? a few scratches here. a bruise or two there. the knife fades away. you are covered in fear. the next day follows. with friends saddened faces. what happened? please tell us. the want to embrace it. its nothing. you claim, cat scratches, no big deal. dont lie to me they say. tell me whats happening. whats going on? no help comes, if none is wanted. so you walk away. only to face but another day. this fear is your dream. but your nightmare it seems. afraid of death. yet you welcome it in. changing your mind each time the clock ticks. time to go. no, i'll stay. tell the truth. i will tomorrow. not today. promising, to tell, someday. tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes. greeted by your friends and foes. smile and frown. your up, but your down. dizzy. spinning. you take the hit. is this really the way you had to end it?
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