When I look into my heart-
all I see is tragedy
Because of you-
My soul is crying
Why can't you understand-
I no longer love you.
The words etched upon the white paper glistened red. His blood for ever writing the words he felt throughout his entire body. Yet his voice was unable to say them. His body had felt the abuse of love, but only his hands could say the words he wished so much to tell the one who had hurt him so.
Each words stings-
More than your fists that destroy me
I gave my soul-
And now I'm your slave
Will you release me-
Or use me until I am dry?
Sometimes the blood misses the ink well and drips onto the page. Such a pretty color, red is. His hair is red, his blood is red, he wonders if his hate is red.
Do you still love me-
Or am I just a toy
To be used, destroyed-
Then thrown away
Does it even matter-
If I die?
Suicide seemed like such a wonderful thing. Death, nothingness, he would be free.
Freedom-
How I crave it
That sweet thing we all wish for-
But can never obtain
Is it possible-
To become free?
He had been locked away so long, even if he did obtain freedom would he really be free?
I still see hope-
In the one who cares for me
I am cleaned-
And bandaged
By his soft-
Tan hands
The dungeon he lived in, was only visited by one person, then he was only brought out to please his master. Was he even the only one? There were probably many others who were used by the master. Was the boy who cared for him also bound, or did the other have the freedom he craved?
I have rings around my eyes-
From the nights I lie awake
I no longer sleep-
For all I see is him
The man-
Who has taken my humanity
He was no longer human, only a creature with a name. "Gaara" the master would croon, so loving. Was that even his name? He had had one long ago, could that really be his identity?
The Pain I feel-
Is all that is left
Maybe someday-
I will be rescued
By soft hands-
Or death
I do not care.