A.N : This was written a very long time ago,but I've only just posted it because it needed editing.This is a dream of mine,which I wrote down in the back of my book in an english classroom.I copied it from that.

violin sadness.

sitting on a bench across the rose garden,she plays violin sadness that cuts the air so cleanly that it feels like dust floundering until something stronger pushes&pulls&I'm falling.She's playing this music and it feels like death mixed with sugar,I'm falling forever and can't land,she wont stop,
she plays tragic little waterfall stories with silly little lives lost and the indifference of humanity woven in.She plays like a realist and i am a romantic.
she plays silly little girl's dreams against the strings and the guilt and longing strikes.She plays to make me resent myself, and I wonder why

& so i approach her, she sings
she sings softly to match her violin sadness played on her silver-stream threads she's holding
I step up on her and she looks at me and

she stares
the eyes are so --

"Am I beautiful, to you?" she asks,and hang on a second,all of a sudden she is nothing but a teenage camera whore.Why couldn't I see it before? But then, as I grow closer I can see the lines growing deeper and deeper on her face and the lips are getting darker & she starts to cry and the eyes are glazing over yellow-and-red and she is getting darker&darker&darker and is she decaying?

"I.......how......" The suprise rises to my lips,she is dying and all I did was loathe her.

"Get........away........" she gasps as if she is about to faint & she pushes me away 2 and a half seconds before she quite quite physically crumbles in front of my eyes.Like she was a concrete statue.As if she was never even human.

I scream and the air turns black as my sound hits it.The steps I am treading on have broken,and those roses i caressed,they all have died.

as I pass the trees seem to die.the sunshine drinking in the woods disapears as if some horrible cold dark sky had just sucked it up.I run into beauty and when I get there,all there is is ugliness.
"I grieve and dare not show my discontent" rings out and I hear

"Am I beautiful,to you?" from a lovely low voice which just breaks into my ears and as bats fly above me and carry me away i realise who i am wrecking,for

This Is Heaven.

and i was never meant to be here.