A cold black night with the wind so still, it felt like the time had stopped to grieve the loss of another dream. Ironic as the very thing one believed that kept him alive eventually caused his demise.
It was a lonely neighborhood, an ignored area filled with hopelessness, and in one of its remote street’s west end lay a rusty, old bookstore with torn, overflowing books and no label. A poor place used as a disguise for a job, but now it was nothing more than a battlefield. Some had gone to enjoy their hard-earned fruit leaving the place wretched and no enemy extant but in the middle of the mess there was a man, with his blood-soaked T-shirt and his eyes, that were so wide as if he had gone through hell all at once. Beneath him were several notes spread unorderly, which was something he would betray a friend for, kill a brother for and even go to the very place he loathed for but he didn’t move an inch to have what he desired.
He died where he first opened his eyes, where he first had his dream for the future, where he was like a lonely, bright star in a night sky and it was also the very place he wanted to escape which will now be the place where he will stay for the rest of the eternity.
He could have been like a violet growing between algae and dirt but the obstacles crushed his dreams and greed made him run in the wrong direction and now he lay there because another chose to sacrifice their dream for their same, own selfish desire
gummygunk
2087
prguitarman
annaxmalina
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
areudirty
