Black heels, clink/click/clink, down the hallway. Teardrops on her face, because things didn't turn out the way she wanted them to be. Life wasn't suppose to be a whore house, and love wasn't suppose to be so false and u.n.k.i.n.d.

There is so much to live for, but so much more to die for.

Black tears, that stupid mascara. That stupid, fucking mascara and all the rest of that stupid makeup plastered on to cover up the flaws. So many

f

l

a

w

s

What's the point of breathing if it means you live?

Black hearts are what you'll find behind the black wall, behinds that black fog. BLACK hearts, beating, beating, beating…

DEATH