Eyes so wide and big and blue with sparkles and hope. Then it rains and they can't stay open. Heart is in the eyes. Soul is in the brain. Head hurts, throbbing, bumping, chasing dreams. Trying to stop the rain. Fear in the midst of life. I want to make a doll. What do you think of me now?
Never had the thought of a broken shell on my toungue. Now my toungue is bleeding. Always had a mind to think until thinking took over. Always had a soul until the Rock hit me in the head and beat me down to nothing.
Rain is supposed to be beautiful. Washing away the old, bad. It only creates mud and muck in the drowning of my flower bed. Head hurts, throbbing, bumping, no dreams to chase. Ache hurts running through my spine.
Dying seems so easy when you've thought about it so long. Then, the picturesque faces of those you love flash before you. Your figments are running free in your mind. Your eyes tear up and your second thoughts come rushing through your fears like a boat through the mist on a rainy day amongst the ocean-dwellers.
It's still in the head, poking at you without hesitation. Prodding your inner-most exagerations and expectations. A link to the afterworld only a button away, screaming "Push me!" It's broken. It breaks every fucking time you want to push it. "Life is not working, build a new button." You think it may, it won't. Why bother? Just keeps edging on. . ,
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