Viral Aviatrin

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471 posts
Writing a paragraph whenever I can... just to help with my creative writing and if anyone actually reads this, feel free to criticise!

Brick walls, stone, cold, hard. The rouge edges dug into my skin and grated it away like sandpaper on wood, the layers peeling away... gradually; the liquid and moisture bleeding out like an overflowing river. Walls, the never ending walls, the irony of the moment, trapped with not a hope in sight.
Hope? What was hope? A feeling or a theory? I can't remember what it was like to have hope, it's been too long, too much time has gone. Too many days and nights, they're endless, its pitiful and depressing that while I stopped believing in my salvation the world never stopped turning, moving, keeping going. After so long of being in the same routine it's amazing to think why the sun never gave up. Why the moon was never too sick to show it's beautiful, glimmering face. The sun and the moon should be a reason for me to keep going, because they kept going, kept tying to meet each other once again. How powerful their love must be if they wait of 40 years just see each other again for just 1 small minute, a small 60 seconds. I feel bad for complaining, I can't help it, they took me from my life, complaining reminds me of what happened, it reminds me of what I lost and all the things they left me without.
Last edited, Jan 9th 2015 @ 4:52 pm
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