Too late to love
((The poem is "a story that could be true" by William Stafford ))
Gundam wing don't belong to me, yada all that.
Don't rip my fic off please!
Warnings aren't necessary, are they?
Too late, to love.
((If you were exchanged in the cradle and Your real mother died Without ever telling the story Then no one knows your name And somewhere in the world Your father is lost and needs you But you are far away))
A lone figure stood slumped against a brick wall, staring out at the empty street with empty eyes. A cold breeze blew threw his chocolate colored hair and caressed his tear streaked cheeks. His thin body shook, covered by a light tan jacket. Though he didn't really care. His whole life has been a lie. To find out he wasn't a test tube baby, but an orphan who's mother traded him for cash had crushed his fragile heart. And his father, low classed man went missing shortly after he mysteriously "died" after birth. Of course he was confused, questioning his life with 'what ifs' that ferociously stormed around in his mind. If his mother wouldn't have traded him off, would he still have met the doc? Probably not. He could have been a normal teenager, normal friends, normality, how he wished for it.
((He can never find How true you are, how ready When the great wind comes And the robberies of the rain You stand on the corner shivering The people who go by You wonder at their calm))
Shaking his head lightly, he stands up and stands under the blinking street light. He sees a few men walking down the street, his jacket slips of his shoulders and falls to the ground. A smooth blue shirt hung on his chest, tucked in roughly into black slacks. His eye liner smeared down from the tears, and his lipstick still a light red. Looking vulnerable, he smiled suggestible though his heart screamed in panic of being raped by someone he did not love. He knew, this was his ticket to meal money. If only he knew, there was a braided American waiting for him on earth none of this would never had happened, if only he knew people cared. The men stumbled closer, Heero blinked unsurely. As the men came closer, rain sprinkled down from the heavens above, and soon poured sending the men running to cover. Frustrated tears leaked from Prussian blue. "Why, god, why me?' were the echoed thoughts as he readied for another cold night in the ally.
((They miss the whisper that runs Any day in your mind "Who are you really, wanderer?" And the answer you have to give No matter how dark and cold The world around you is: "Maybe I'm a king"))
The town is once again quiet, drunken men off to a warm place where the rain can't reach them. So the steps echoed loudly in the narrow ally. The question startled Heero; no one had asked who he was. Just used him for a good fucked and threw bills to the ground for him to bend over and pick up. What should he say? Who was he? No longer the soldier, the pilot of gundam wing, no longer the friend of Duo, Quatre, Trowa and Wufei. No longer the savior of the world, just plain ol' Heero. Who were his parents? Colonists, earthians? Slowly, a sly smile streaked his face. 'Maybe, I'm a king." Heero slowly said, nodding his head to his own silent joke as his last bit of sanity slipped away. Only if he would have known, the man who loomed over him was a braided man who loved him.
~*~ End ~*~
im sorry if it isn't that good. But reviews still would be nice so I know if I am doing good, if you like it, or if I should just give it up.
Too late, to love.
((If you were exchanged in the cradle and Your real mother died Without ever telling the story Then no one knows your name And somewhere in the world Your father is lost and needs you But you are far away))
A lone figure stood slumped against a brick wall, staring out at the empty street with empty eyes. A cold breeze blew threw his chocolate colored hair and caressed his tear streaked cheeks. His thin body shook, covered by a light tan jacket. Though he didn't really care. His whole life has been a lie. To find out he wasn't a test tube baby, but an orphan who's mother traded him for cash had crushed his fragile heart. And his father, low classed man went missing shortly after he mysteriously "died" after birth. Of course he was confused, questioning his life with 'what ifs' that ferociously stormed around in his mind. If his mother wouldn't have traded him off, would he still have met the doc? Probably not. He could have been a normal teenager, normal friends, normality, how he wished for it.
((He can never find How true you are, how ready When the great wind comes And the robberies of the rain You stand on the corner shivering The people who go by You wonder at their calm))
Shaking his head lightly, he stands up and stands under the blinking street light. He sees a few men walking down the street, his jacket slips of his shoulders and falls to the ground. A smooth blue shirt hung on his chest, tucked in roughly into black slacks. His eye liner smeared down from the tears, and his lipstick still a light red. Looking vulnerable, he smiled suggestible though his heart screamed in panic of being raped by someone he did not love. He knew, this was his ticket to meal money. If only he knew, there was a braided American waiting for him on earth none of this would never had happened, if only he knew people cared. The men stumbled closer, Heero blinked unsurely. As the men came closer, rain sprinkled down from the heavens above, and soon poured sending the men running to cover. Frustrated tears leaked from Prussian blue. "Why, god, why me?' were the echoed thoughts as he readied for another cold night in the ally.
((They miss the whisper that runs Any day in your mind "Who are you really, wanderer?" And the answer you have to give No matter how dark and cold The world around you is: "Maybe I'm a king"))
The town is once again quiet, drunken men off to a warm place where the rain can't reach them. So the steps echoed loudly in the narrow ally. The question startled Heero; no one had asked who he was. Just used him for a good fucked and threw bills to the ground for him to bend over and pick up. What should he say? Who was he? No longer the soldier, the pilot of gundam wing, no longer the friend of Duo, Quatre, Trowa and Wufei. No longer the savior of the world, just plain ol' Heero. Who were his parents? Colonists, earthians? Slowly, a sly smile streaked his face. 'Maybe, I'm a king." Heero slowly said, nodding his head to his own silent joke as his last bit of sanity slipped away. Only if he would have known, the man who loomed over him was a braided man who loved him.
~*~ End ~*~
im sorry if it isn't that good. But reviews still would be nice so I know if I am doing good, if you like it, or if I should just give it up.