Machine
He was always considered a man unable to show emotions.
He was a man incapable of love.
He was a calculating machine in their eyes.
A man running on cold, hard reason.
So strong is his care-fully constructed mask.
He needs so badly to feel something, anything.
Why won't the tears fall?
He cannot cry.
The tears are there.
The grope and push at the edges of his eyes, and yet they do not fall.
They cannot breach past the mask.
The cursed mask.
He yearns with all of his being to cry out to anyone.
He wants to scream, to yell with agony.
But he only stares, his mouth agape in a silent cry.
He cannot scream.
There lay his friend, his Boswell, his brother.
He wants the same bullet that had pierced his friend to take him too.
He only kneels, frozen.
He cannot try.
They pull him away from the body.
They don't want him to see.
He doesn't struggle.
He cannot struggle.
Why is he so numb?
Why is he so speechless?
He wants to fight against this mask.
He cannot fight…
A/N:
I'M SO DEPRESSING!
Don't worry, this will be continued. I won't leave you in the dark.
Oh, and I thank my three AMAZING reviewers for keeping my writer's fire lit. :3