He smiles, teeth bared.
She cries, head down.
A whip, held high.
Blood shed, no life.
A fist raised high. A bitter laugh at the realization that we live to die, and die to live. Nothing truly changes, nothing stays the same.
It will all be over soon.
I am loved. I am hated. I am strong. I am weak. I am light. I am dark. I simply am. Like all living beings, I breathe, I see, I comprehend, and I die. It's a cycle everyone and everything completes and defeats. Believed or decieved, its all we have left.
My name? Chelsey. My age? Does it matter? It's a number. All that matters is that we live, we will die, and we have a small amount of time to change something, to do something while we are here. And I will. I will do so by devoting my life to my writting and to my music. But most importantly, I will do so by not letting anyone control me.
FictionPress.com - let the words flow
