Haze
****
Staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks.
Listen to the sounds and what they lack,
Eyes tearing up, no one to look,
Not even knowing how long it took.
As the mask breaks and shatters on the floor,
No one cares about you any more
Little boy, playing a ninja game,
Funny how life turns out the same
How long did you think you'd last?
Didn't even see, it was so fast.
Little boy with a dream, little boy with a heart,
How long will you last, lying in the dark?
Strands of shiny black hair covered the eyelids of a pale youth as he lay in bed, staring out the window at the sunset. How long had he lain here? It seemed like years.
No, it was only a few days.
That's right. He was in a fight, and the fight had gone terribly, terribly wrong. So bad that he woke up and couldn't use his right arm or leg.
He hurt all over.
The days blurred together. He couldn't tell how long he had been in the hospital, staring at the sterile white ceiling, counting the cracks.
All he remembered was a single phrase, picked out with alarming efficiency and that which shoved everything else onto the backburner.
"Due to his injuries, this boy will never become a ninja."
Just like that, his life had been turned upside down.
He didn't even remember his name.
Vaguely he remembered people. Someone in a green suit. his teacher, wasn't it? He didn't know anymore. There were others. A boy with long hair and an emotionless white stare that looked through him, literally. A young woman with buns. she had a loud voice.
They were. people he knew. His teammates they said.
Teammates? He had teammates? Why did a weakling like him hang around people that strong?
They were uncomfortable with his blankness. The lifelessness of his eyes. The dullness of his voice.
They didn't see the shards of himself lying on the ground around the bed.
They didn't bother, and soon they left.
The green-clad one had been persistent. He came everyday. Bringing in his loud voice and his confidence and ego, a swarm of brightness that made his eyes ache. The other sat and chattered, words spilling out of his mouth into a puddle on the floor, spreading out beneath the bed and over by the door.
Once he told the other that if he kept talking they would be flooded out.
At first the other didn't understand, because he couldn't see the mess he was making, the water lapping up the shards of himself all around the bed, drowning him in his brightness. But soon he did know that he was tiring the youth, and that perhaps time was needed for him to collect himself.
So he sat, counting the cracks, watching them form themselves. They became flowers, trees, animals. He counted them because it was better than going to sleep, where the eyes watched him and followed him, and swallowed him whole.
The eyes that cried blood and mixed with the sand.
The eyes that were so cold that they had frozen his fire.
The eyes that would kill a human and never mourn it's passing.
The eyes that had destroyed him.
The nurse that took care of him had knocked over a pitcher of water once, and he had watched as the water spread out, covering the pieces of himself that had been carelessly dropped around his bed, too tired to pick them up. The water had turned to blood.
It enveloped him, as the eyes had.
He was drowning in blood. He knew he'd never escape.
He had died, and the blood of the sand was coming to claim him.
No one would care if he died. Fuzzy eyebrows knitted together. The weakling would be gone. No more pretending of being a ninja. No more hopes, no more dreams. Just the sand and the blood drowning him and entrapping him forever.
No more broken heart.
He stopped breathing. Slowly he had inhaled, and slowly he had exhaled. Then he stopped, sighing, as if he was going to sleep. His heart stopped beating. The blood stopped circulating. His body shut down.
Around him a hurricane exploded, voices, bodies, blended together as they rushed to do, what? Save him? Keep him alive? He was already dead. He had already died when he found out he could never become that which he most wanted to be.
At the calm center he smiled.
He would find peace, and be released.
No one would miss him.
There was nothing left to live for.
Except for.
Her.
Wait.
He frowned.
Her.
Who was she?
He didn't remember.
A beautiful smile.
Silky pink locks.
She was crying.
Why was she so sad?
Was it because of him?
Why?
I.
Love her.
I want to protect her.
I want to see her bloom.
I want to love her for all time.
I want to live for her.
"Sa. kura."
My heart started beating again.
I inhaled, taking in gulps of air as I fought to escape the grasp of death.
I didn't want to drown in the sand.
I wanted to breath in the sakura blossoms.
I didn't want to lose this hope that had bloomed in my heart, that shined so strong and warmed me all the way to my toes.
I was coming back to life.
"We have a heartbeat!"
"Will he be okay?"
"I think so!"
"Fight Lee-kun!!"
I awoke from that long nightmare with a scream, thrashing up my blankets, fighting off the sand that refused to let go. I started attacking the orderlies, battling for my life. I could see her smiling at me, as they sedated me.
I had won.
Watch me fly on silver wings,
Watch me do impossible things.
Watch me soar around the moon,
Watch me as I dance around the room.
Watch me battle death and life,
Watch me win over my strife.
Watch me sing a song of joy,
Watch me be a little boy.
Watch me play a ninja game,
Watch me as I am never the same.
*****
This is when Lee-kun is first in the hospital after his fight with Gaara. I think that the fact Lee would probably never be a ninja again would impact him a lot harder than we're let on to know. Hence this piece that I wrote at 11 at night when I was in an introspective mood. Hope you liked it! Review, ne?
****
Staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks.
Listen to the sounds and what they lack,
Eyes tearing up, no one to look,
Not even knowing how long it took.
As the mask breaks and shatters on the floor,
No one cares about you any more
Little boy, playing a ninja game,
Funny how life turns out the same
How long did you think you'd last?
Didn't even see, it was so fast.
Little boy with a dream, little boy with a heart,
How long will you last, lying in the dark?
Strands of shiny black hair covered the eyelids of a pale youth as he lay in bed, staring out the window at the sunset. How long had he lain here? It seemed like years.
No, it was only a few days.
That's right. He was in a fight, and the fight had gone terribly, terribly wrong. So bad that he woke up and couldn't use his right arm or leg.
He hurt all over.
The days blurred together. He couldn't tell how long he had been in the hospital, staring at the sterile white ceiling, counting the cracks.
All he remembered was a single phrase, picked out with alarming efficiency and that which shoved everything else onto the backburner.
"Due to his injuries, this boy will never become a ninja."
Just like that, his life had been turned upside down.
He didn't even remember his name.
Vaguely he remembered people. Someone in a green suit. his teacher, wasn't it? He didn't know anymore. There were others. A boy with long hair and an emotionless white stare that looked through him, literally. A young woman with buns. she had a loud voice.
They were. people he knew. His teammates they said.
Teammates? He had teammates? Why did a weakling like him hang around people that strong?
They were uncomfortable with his blankness. The lifelessness of his eyes. The dullness of his voice.
They didn't see the shards of himself lying on the ground around the bed.
They didn't bother, and soon they left.
The green-clad one had been persistent. He came everyday. Bringing in his loud voice and his confidence and ego, a swarm of brightness that made his eyes ache. The other sat and chattered, words spilling out of his mouth into a puddle on the floor, spreading out beneath the bed and over by the door.
Once he told the other that if he kept talking they would be flooded out.
At first the other didn't understand, because he couldn't see the mess he was making, the water lapping up the shards of himself all around the bed, drowning him in his brightness. But soon he did know that he was tiring the youth, and that perhaps time was needed for him to collect himself.
So he sat, counting the cracks, watching them form themselves. They became flowers, trees, animals. He counted them because it was better than going to sleep, where the eyes watched him and followed him, and swallowed him whole.
The eyes that cried blood and mixed with the sand.
The eyes that were so cold that they had frozen his fire.
The eyes that would kill a human and never mourn it's passing.
The eyes that had destroyed him.
The nurse that took care of him had knocked over a pitcher of water once, and he had watched as the water spread out, covering the pieces of himself that had been carelessly dropped around his bed, too tired to pick them up. The water had turned to blood.
It enveloped him, as the eyes had.
He was drowning in blood. He knew he'd never escape.
He had died, and the blood of the sand was coming to claim him.
No one would care if he died. Fuzzy eyebrows knitted together. The weakling would be gone. No more pretending of being a ninja. No more hopes, no more dreams. Just the sand and the blood drowning him and entrapping him forever.
No more broken heart.
He stopped breathing. Slowly he had inhaled, and slowly he had exhaled. Then he stopped, sighing, as if he was going to sleep. His heart stopped beating. The blood stopped circulating. His body shut down.
Around him a hurricane exploded, voices, bodies, blended together as they rushed to do, what? Save him? Keep him alive? He was already dead. He had already died when he found out he could never become that which he most wanted to be.
At the calm center he smiled.
He would find peace, and be released.
No one would miss him.
There was nothing left to live for.
Except for.
Her.
Wait.
He frowned.
Her.
Who was she?
He didn't remember.
A beautiful smile.
Silky pink locks.
She was crying.
Why was she so sad?
Was it because of him?
Why?
I.
Love her.
I want to protect her.
I want to see her bloom.
I want to love her for all time.
I want to live for her.
"Sa. kura."
My heart started beating again.
I inhaled, taking in gulps of air as I fought to escape the grasp of death.
I didn't want to drown in the sand.
I wanted to breath in the sakura blossoms.
I didn't want to lose this hope that had bloomed in my heart, that shined so strong and warmed me all the way to my toes.
I was coming back to life.
"We have a heartbeat!"
"Will he be okay?"
"I think so!"
"Fight Lee-kun!!"
I awoke from that long nightmare with a scream, thrashing up my blankets, fighting off the sand that refused to let go. I started attacking the orderlies, battling for my life. I could see her smiling at me, as they sedated me.
I had won.
Watch me fly on silver wings,
Watch me do impossible things.
Watch me soar around the moon,
Watch me as I dance around the room.
Watch me battle death and life,
Watch me win over my strife.
Watch me sing a song of joy,
Watch me be a little boy.
Watch me play a ninja game,
Watch me as I am never the same.
*****
This is when Lee-kun is first in the hospital after his fight with Gaara. I think that the fact Lee would probably never be a ninja again would impact him a lot harder than we're let on to know. Hence this piece that I wrote at 11 at night when I was in an introspective mood. Hope you liked it! Review, ne?