I'm thirteen, and I think I'll be okay.
With skies so blue. Indulgence lingers over my head. Why do I love you. When love seems so dead. Forget me now, forget me never. Your love is like a frightful endeavor. I tried to touch the flames.
Do I live. Do I exist in reality. Where am I. Who was I. No recollection. I exist, Alive but not really living. I think I've slipped. No feeling. No heart. No home. I think I'm torn apart.
Ƥreface; Ƭhere's been four months between when I buried my sister in a pale satin dress, and now. It's my fault she's dead, too. That's the worst part.
If I fall now, I may never get up again. So I won't fall. I will rise. And I will soar, Miles and miles more..
"It's too cold outside, For angels to die. And angels will die, Covered in white." -Ed Sheeran, The A Team.
Part One: Eat Your Filthy Heart Out "Why would you come back here, Ezekiel?" she screams. "To see you, of course." the young man replies.
Preface; Her fingers glide over the man's rough palms. She exhales, making the least bit of noise. The room is filled with a musky smell that clings to the air, but never shifts.