Death of a(n)……
Death is in the world tonight.
And yet, death is just a means to an end.
A story, that will never truly be told.
Somewhere, across the world, a little girl bursts out crying for a man she will never know.
She doesn't know she's crying for him. She just cries, and prays that whoever is hurting…
Will be okay.
A man with two faces.
Two real.
Two fake.
And yet, they all know which one he has picked.
The one that he will wear in heaven, or hell, or where ever he has been sent.
An angel.
A demon.
Blood in the snow, an inkblot in itself.
Ironic. Symbolic.
Hate. Betrayal. Fear.
There is only so much one can do for a man who saw so much.
Held so much in his fingers.
It still changes.
It always will.
Even in death, it moves to the beat that was his heart.
A hero is not just a hero when we call him one.
A/N: Inspired by the death of Rorschach. I cried when he died. His actor was brilliant.
Tell me what you saw in the place where they show his exploded body. I saw an angel and a demon, and it was my twin brother who came up with the ink blot idea.