Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anyone that goes along with him. I
do own the feelings of sorrow for our dearly departed Sirius Black that I
have deep inside.
Waiting For You to Return
I stood, stunned. I didn't think anyone could take you down. I watched as you fell, into the dark, empty depths of nothing. I waited for you. I waited to hear your bark like laugh once again. But it never came. I cried. I wanted to see you again. But, now you're gone. I don't know how I'll get on without you.
As I sit on my bed, my small, uncomfortable bed in a room that wouldn't suit a man sentenced to life in jail, I am reminded of you. How you were sent to Azkaban for no reason. I cry. I can't stand that your not here.
I can no longer stand the pain. I take the picture frame with a photo of you in it and throw it to the ground. Despite the shouts and shrieks that the noise has started downstairs, I pick up a piece of the broken glass and hold it up to my face. I finally realize, this is the fate I've come to. I don't care anymore though. I take the piece of glass and slice my wrist. I gasp. I'd heard about people cutting themselves before, but I'd never heard about the pain. The pain stays only for a moment, though. After which I am satisfied to see blood coming out of the cut. I stare at it for a moment. Then I laugh. I don't know why. I must be going mad. But at the moment I don't care. I sit in my bed laughing until I fall into another night of horrible sleep, often interrupted by nightmares of Sirius falling to his death.
Weeks later, I continue to cause myself injury. I don't care what my aunt and uncle think. I know they don't care what happens to me. All I care about is how much I miss you. I've pretty much stopped eating. To me, it doesn't matter anymore. I hope to die nowadays.
A week later still, I find myself in my prison cell of a room once again. I'm feeling ill today, but I can't bring myself to care. I feel dizzy and sick, but I don't mind. I simply sit on my bed, with the same piece of glass I've been using for the past month. I just sit, staring at the wall. This is it, I think; I have absolutely nothing to live for. I'm going to die alone. But, to me, death doesn't seem to come soon enough. I don't even have to courage to take myself out. I feel really sick now. I know I should eat something, but I refuse every offer.
I lay down onto the flat pillow. As I look at the ceiling, I find I'm just waiting for you to return, though I know it will never happen. I smile as I remember the good times that we've had. But I can't think clearly anymore. Every second, I feel myself slipping even deeper into unconsciousness. Maybe, I think, maybe ill meat Sirius before he comes back. And with that, I slip into a deep slumber, and my thoughts are immediately cut off. I just sit, in a room with white walls, waiting, waiting for you to return. Waiting for a never-ending wish to come true, though I know it is impossible.
have deep inside.
Waiting For You to Return
I stood, stunned. I didn't think anyone could take you down. I watched as you fell, into the dark, empty depths of nothing. I waited for you. I waited to hear your bark like laugh once again. But it never came. I cried. I wanted to see you again. But, now you're gone. I don't know how I'll get on without you.
As I sit on my bed, my small, uncomfortable bed in a room that wouldn't suit a man sentenced to life in jail, I am reminded of you. How you were sent to Azkaban for no reason. I cry. I can't stand that your not here.
I can no longer stand the pain. I take the picture frame with a photo of you in it and throw it to the ground. Despite the shouts and shrieks that the noise has started downstairs, I pick up a piece of the broken glass and hold it up to my face. I finally realize, this is the fate I've come to. I don't care anymore though. I take the piece of glass and slice my wrist. I gasp. I'd heard about people cutting themselves before, but I'd never heard about the pain. The pain stays only for a moment, though. After which I am satisfied to see blood coming out of the cut. I stare at it for a moment. Then I laugh. I don't know why. I must be going mad. But at the moment I don't care. I sit in my bed laughing until I fall into another night of horrible sleep, often interrupted by nightmares of Sirius falling to his death.
Weeks later, I continue to cause myself injury. I don't care what my aunt and uncle think. I know they don't care what happens to me. All I care about is how much I miss you. I've pretty much stopped eating. To me, it doesn't matter anymore. I hope to die nowadays.
A week later still, I find myself in my prison cell of a room once again. I'm feeling ill today, but I can't bring myself to care. I feel dizzy and sick, but I don't mind. I simply sit on my bed, with the same piece of glass I've been using for the past month. I just sit, staring at the wall. This is it, I think; I have absolutely nothing to live for. I'm going to die alone. But, to me, death doesn't seem to come soon enough. I don't even have to courage to take myself out. I feel really sick now. I know I should eat something, but I refuse every offer.
I lay down onto the flat pillow. As I look at the ceiling, I find I'm just waiting for you to return, though I know it will never happen. I smile as I remember the good times that we've had. But I can't think clearly anymore. Every second, I feel myself slipping even deeper into unconsciousness. Maybe, I think, maybe ill meat Sirius before he comes back. And with that, I slip into a deep slumber, and my thoughts are immediately cut off. I just sit, in a room with white walls, waiting, waiting for you to return. Waiting for a never-ending wish to come true, though I know it is impossible.