|by D'Arcy Juni|
|Published on: Feb 14, 2005|
|Type: Short Stories|
|Driven; you choose to mislead yourself again, or what's left of you. Your corrupted spawn has something to say, but little does it matter. Muzzled and caged she bleeds... stripped of her dignity, scorned and abhorred. You murdered her intellectually, crippled her physically, yet inedequate, alienated, and distraught, she crawls back to you. Now how messed up is that? "It's not a big deal"... never a big deal. It's amazing how much she withstands. I'm not sure if her endurance will be enough anymore, though. 'Cause now, even her plastic smile is beginning to look rather homely. She tried, but it's too hard in a home where the silence is enough to make you cry. Bloody brutal the way you work. Poor little "accident"... you'll be pleased to know you'll be the death of her in the end. In the end, you acomplish your malignant deed. Your intentions live on, and circle her head like vultures over a stranded and dying person in a desert. But, know this also, as fucked up as she is, she destroys you first. She demolishes the cycle, and reigns triumphantly, adonized respectfully, and awesome until the guillotine of insanity you have set for her cases her fate, and dooms her to everything you have preached against in vain.
Can't you hear it? I'm laughing at you. We all are.