The Sohma Diaries
An Archive of secrets made by the Sohma family
What are the Sohma's thinking in their silly little heads???
Archive One Summer Thoughts
Case Eight The one and only...drumroll AKiTo SoHmA
May 14th 3:27 am.
Hello Mable-
I cannot help to be depressed Mable. Every day I am haunted with my unescapable doom. The pain bleeds off me as if my entire body is being speared with the blades of Satan. My pen is the only outlet for my dark and doomed destiny. My soul runs through the words like the wind blows through the trees, echoing my thirst to live. Flowers bloom with re-birth as Summer awakens to a barren land, and the earth rejoices.
But harken! I have not been awakened with the warmth on my cold lifeless flesh. My soul thirsts for the sun on my face, and the earth beneath my weary feet...but nay, I have to deny the request of my weeping soul, and remain indoors. The life-giving sun must be hidden from my cold flesh. I wither away in despair as I watch the family carry out their lives.
Oh Mable! I am the foundation of the curse...Like the skeleton of the house, I must remain to support the components. Like the wind that carry's the majestic hawk, I must allow the Sohma house to fly...to glide majestically, as I carry it toward its destination.
But with the burden I shed the blood and tears of an oppressed slave, destined to wait on time, like a tiny ant on Earth, so I feel I serve no purpose but to work. The poetry I write serves as a lasting momento to the shattered soul that lies within my dull eyes. My soul aches with worry as I age, my body grows weak, and my skin prickles with fear.
Dark roses bloom around my soul. I am pricked with their thorns and my soul bleeds onto the life of the flower. I am impure, as are the flowers around me. I dirty they're souls as well. .
.
How did you like that Mable, I put it on Fictionpress and got five reviews. My bleeding soul has to have the opportunity to speak to the remains of the shattered earth. Blood must be shed in order for a sun to rise slowly over the horizon
Sincerely Yours,
Akito (Miffy to you)
Oh dear me Akito. You suck at gothic poetry and you named your diary.
Archive One Summer Thoughts
Case Eight The one and only...drumroll AKiTo SoHmA
May 14th 3:27 am.
Hello Mable-
I cannot help to be depressed Mable. Every day I am haunted with my unescapable doom. The pain bleeds off me as if my entire body is being speared with the blades of Satan. My pen is the only outlet for my dark and doomed destiny. My soul runs through the words like the wind blows through the trees, echoing my thirst to live. Flowers bloom with re-birth as Summer awakens to a barren land, and the earth rejoices.
But harken! I have not been awakened with the warmth on my cold lifeless flesh. My soul thirsts for the sun on my face, and the earth beneath my weary feet...but nay, I have to deny the request of my weeping soul, and remain indoors. The life-giving sun must be hidden from my cold flesh. I wither away in despair as I watch the family carry out their lives.
Oh Mable! I am the foundation of the curse...Like the skeleton of the house, I must remain to support the components. Like the wind that carry's the majestic hawk, I must allow the Sohma house to fly...to glide majestically, as I carry it toward its destination.
But with the burden I shed the blood and tears of an oppressed slave, destined to wait on time, like a tiny ant on Earth, so I feel I serve no purpose but to work. The poetry I write serves as a lasting momento to the shattered soul that lies within my dull eyes. My soul aches with worry as I age, my body grows weak, and my skin prickles with fear.
Dark roses bloom around my soul. I am pricked with their thorns and my soul bleeds onto the life of the flower. I am impure, as are the flowers around me. I dirty they're souls as well. .
.
How did you like that Mable, I put it on Fictionpress and got five reviews. My bleeding soul has to have the opportunity to speak to the remains of the shattered earth. Blood must be shed in order for a sun to rise slowly over the horizon
Sincerely Yours,
Akito (Miffy to you)
Oh dear me Akito. You suck at gothic poetry and you named your diary.