Mar 2012
February 2nd: Dire was my day, every move I made was seen as a mistake.Malice my good intentions, I’ve been labeled as a hurtful, evil, and ugly man. Believed to be a demon, from the pits of hell; I am feared by all and eluded like a disease.
February 3rd: My time is spent in isolation. Never desiccated are the tears that endlessly flow down my wrecked up face. My screaming is unheard. Nothing is heard in this room, I am alone.
February 4th: Blood encrusts my massacred body, a true painting of affliction. I have run out of tears. Crying is now a more complex process, involving the bitter sweet touch of a blade.
February 5th: Exile is slowly beginning to **** me. The hands of time have firmly grabbed my neck and with each passing hour its grip grows stronger.
February 3rd: My time is spent in isolation. Never desiccated are the tears that endlessly flow down my wrecked up face. My screaming is unheard. Nothing is heard in this room, I am alone.
February 4th: Blood encrusts my massacred body, a true painting of affliction. I have run out of tears. Crying is now a more complex process, involving the bitter sweet touch of a blade.
February 5th: Exile is slowly beginning to **** me. The hands of time have firmly grabbed my neck and with each passing hour its grip grows stronger.
