Simplistic



Pictures...

Simplistic pictures...

On the walls and ceiling...

Simplistic pictures...

In black crayon...

Connected together... with words...

Simplistic words... connecting simplistic picture... in simplistic
black crayon...

My hands are stained black... as black as this crayonized world...
if only my soul... my black soul... was so simple...

All these markings... in crayons... almost seeming to dance... on these
fading yellow walls... walls falling apart... falling apart... like
me...


Along those fading yellow walls... old stubs, like worn out fingers,
lie the black crayons... used to draw with... to create life... this
life... inside these fading yellow walls...

I didn't use the coloured ones... I ripped them apart... broke them
into a million pieces... I think some are still under my feet... it
doesn't matter... not anymore...

Besides... I couldn't use those colours... because when i was "me"...
I never used my colours...

Damn I softly whisper... as I throw a empty box of crayons at the
wall... it hits Akane's face... whats left of Akane... and the box
lies still... deathly still... like Akane... my Akane...

I jump up... scream and scream and scream... I start throwing myself
against the wall... wanting so much to just become part of my
pictured world... my only true world...

Kasumi rushes in upon hearing my screams... as she see's me she calls
Mr Tendo and my pop in... to hold me down... she say's it's to make
sure I don't hurt myself... but I know why she's really making them
hold me down, stopping me... it's so I can't enter that world...
my world...

Slowly I stop... knowing that I'll need to try later... when they're
not watching me... when they think I'll be a good little slave...
their nice little slave... drained of everything... of my power... my
life... my Akane...

How dare they take my Akane away... they killed her... I know it...
they tell everyone that she died... they tell me she died... of
cancer... but I know the truth... they killed her... so I could
become... their slave... but I know the truth...

A slave... thats all my father ever thought of me... selling me from
one person to the next... always making me pratice the "art"... so
I'd just have a better price... like a good little slave... get them
alot of money...

But I'll never become there slave... because I know that they killed
her... they killed Akane... my Akane...

My Akane died... by the hands of those murders... but I brought her
to life... I can see her... on my walls... she's smiling... before she
died... I never told her how cute she was when she smiled... but now
I do... I tell her every night... that she's cute when she smiles...

Untill I am with my Akane again... in that crayoned world... my
world... I stay here... surround by these crayonistic pictures...
this simplistic crayoned world... waiting... to be with her...