Wolf-Muffin12

The song of the wind as it whistles through the trees. The touch of the grass as it is a host to the bees. The show of a flower, opening its beauty. The ripple of a pond, the reflections of clouds we see. The rain on a roof, telling us goodnight. The dark night sky, showing stars so bright. The moon with the shimmering outlining its glory. And here it is now, that I end this story.

The voices. The cries. All sanity gone. The actions. Of hurt to one's self. They will keep on and on. The quiet. So painful. It lets the voices in. They tell me the obvious. That I will never win. My mind. No longer mine. Taunts me as I sleep. Giving me glimpses of happiness. While I suffer what I reap. Because I gather madness. In this basket of mine. In my head I wish I was dead. And now I can see why. Because I am alone. And now I have no one. To help me with my fall. I hear the call. Of my name. But I comprehend it not. Because I am. Without a thought d  e s   c      e  n       d    i   n g... Into ma

A mirror. Some hate it. Some love it. A mirror. It shows only the outer shell. The inner character, no one can tell. A mirror. Some may shatter it. Others will scatter it. A mirror. Only a tool that shows a small part of you. Enjoy life outside of a reflection. Be who you are. Because time shreds the image.