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With Tired Hands

From the beginning

we were born to die.

There is no starting over.

There are no second chances.

With death carved on our skin

how could we live a normal life?

 

You could run but you'll one day run out of breath.

It's just a game.

You hide your pain and sorrow.

Save it for another day

when everything just falls apart and you can't pick it up.

 

Medicine and alcohol keeps you awake

As you hunt your demons and monsters.

You could choose to die but then this world would fall apart.

You give others that second chance,

you give them time to run and escape

while you slaughter their monsters,

and **** their demons instead.

 

You've got blood on your hands

and a soldier's heart.

Your brain is beautiful

just corrupted.

You smile to stay strong

and your humor hides your internal scars.

 

In the end

you'll look back on your youth

and notice you died a long time ago.

You never had the chance to be happy.

You'll never know the feeling of growing old with your lover

because all your lovers are either buried below your feet,

or somewhere up in the sky with the stars.

It's not that far,

one day you'll be with them.

Then, you'll finally be able to rest your tired hands.

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Written by
morganmercury
24 / F / American
Published
Aug 19, 2013
Lines·Words
34·220
Notes

Supernatural

Sam & Dean Winchester

Tags
#supernational#deanwinchester#samwinchester#struggle#pain#suffering#suffer#death#rest#monster
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