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Oct 2014
The sound of slamming doors fill my ears. Distant screams and shouts of hateful words linger in the air. I lay where I was forced to the ground covered in precious silver tears. Using only my hate and anger to keep me going. The pain burns inside, swallowing any part of myself I have left. My fingertips outline a clear, soft, edge that will allow every painful thought to seep out into the blissful darkness. At first I feel a different pain, a type of pain that should send me running to the farthest of corners but instead I welcome it/ The pain reaches a point where I open my mouth to cry out but not sound comes out, The warmth of the burning covers like a blanket made of bricks. Pressing on every nerve, breaking every bone so easily, crushing everything ever known. Then all of a sudden, the pain slowly exits. I feel it run along my skin as it makes its way into nothing. The only evidence, a small mark distorted by the skin. the only reminder of how much pain was shed. The only way one would know, is the sound of slamming doors.
March 26, 2013
Nikki Nakamura
Written by
Nikki Nakamura
870
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