Disclaimer: I do not own ANYTHING!! i am nobody..don't sue i don't have anything to give. Secondly this is extremley dark, and the first part of writing is a twisted version of a prayer. Anyone that is relgious and finds this disturbing do NOT read! i am warning you now because i refuse to acknowledge flames about it, i have warned you all in advance, This is also rated for dark agnst so those that can't handle agnst don't read either..i wouldn't want to scar anyone for life *chuckles* please R+R Arigatou minna!
Before i lay me down to sleep,
I pry thy lord my soul to keep,
For i can no longer bare this life,
So i turn into the silence, my ticket this knife,
I ask of you, forgive my sins,
As my world ends, the solitude begins
Watching other angels, with my broken wings
A puppet, pulled by humanities cruel strings,
I've abused this life and now i must pay,
Leave no memory, Just fade away.
Farfarello watched as the light from the moon caught and glinted off the long metal object held in his hands. Without flinching he began to run the knife across the base of his arm, marveling at the crimson mark it left in its wake. His blood, his life. pouring onto his pale flesh as if it was nothing. Which was what he was, nothing, an exuse for murder. Smirking to himself he started to dig the metal into his skin, frantically ripping at it, scarlet flowing onto the floor and pooling around him. So many times he had done this to himself, yet the pain would never come. Pain fascinated him, the look of glazed fear as the pain over-rode its victim, the screams of anguish as it sliced open the casing of a human to reveal the colors of life, red, sickly, if Farfarello had to associate anything with his life it would be the color red, he had seen so much of it in his exsistance. Exsistance, thats what it all came down to in the end, people thought it was their unconditional right to live, it wasnt, it was a privilage, those that didn't belive that he went after first and reveled in their screams as their bodys crumpled to the ground. Did this make him a killer?..he didn't think so.
Sighing slightly Farfarello brought his stained hand up to his line of vision, he felt empty, he had nothing to live for anymore, not even the joy of the kill that he craved so much. He was tainted, so many deaths by such delicate hands, like fate, a double sided coin. In a quick jerking movment he slashed at his wrists, hitting each vein and sending blood spurting violently from his body. laying on the soaked floor he began to study the ceiling, counting the notches on it untill his eyes began to cloud over and drift shut, body melding into the nothing he had once made his home.
Bish.
Before i lay me down to sleep,
I pry thy lord my soul to keep,
For i can no longer bare this life,
So i turn into the silence, my ticket this knife,
I ask of you, forgive my sins,
As my world ends, the solitude begins
Watching other angels, with my broken wings
A puppet, pulled by humanities cruel strings,
I've abused this life and now i must pay,
Leave no memory, Just fade away.
Farfarello watched as the light from the moon caught and glinted off the long metal object held in his hands. Without flinching he began to run the knife across the base of his arm, marveling at the crimson mark it left in its wake. His blood, his life. pouring onto his pale flesh as if it was nothing. Which was what he was, nothing, an exuse for murder. Smirking to himself he started to dig the metal into his skin, frantically ripping at it, scarlet flowing onto the floor and pooling around him. So many times he had done this to himself, yet the pain would never come. Pain fascinated him, the look of glazed fear as the pain over-rode its victim, the screams of anguish as it sliced open the casing of a human to reveal the colors of life, red, sickly, if Farfarello had to associate anything with his life it would be the color red, he had seen so much of it in his exsistance. Exsistance, thats what it all came down to in the end, people thought it was their unconditional right to live, it wasnt, it was a privilage, those that didn't belive that he went after first and reveled in their screams as their bodys crumpled to the ground. Did this make him a killer?..he didn't think so.
Sighing slightly Farfarello brought his stained hand up to his line of vision, he felt empty, he had nothing to live for anymore, not even the joy of the kill that he craved so much. He was tainted, so many deaths by such delicate hands, like fate, a double sided coin. In a quick jerking movment he slashed at his wrists, hitting each vein and sending blood spurting violently from his body. laying on the soaked floor he began to study the ceiling, counting the notches on it untill his eyes began to cloud over and drift shut, body melding into the nothing he had once made his home.
Bish.