I earnestly don't remember writing this. I don't know why it was written, how old I was when it was written...nothing like that. It's a little disturbing, but I also think it is kinda good. So, GO!
I always imagined it here.
White tub turned pink with blood.
He walks in and what does he see?
Girl down,
loving sister
no longer quite so living.
Red streams
mixed with screams.
Loud footsteps run.
I can no longer see
hospital gowns
and medicine bags.
Daddy always said the pain would go away.
But where is he now?
Not here to help me, save me.
Comfort me
in his touch,
in his bed.
He said it was love,
but I guess love always fades anyway.
yeah. yeah-ew.
