The bullet hole looks so right in your head, like it'd been missing all along. The blood streaked across your face like some twisted lover's deformed lipstick trace. Staring at your reflection wondering how you're still alive. Wondering if she's somewhere laughing, deciding whether to let you die.
"if one has to be scared to lead a decent life his weakness is obvious" (cit.)"I do not hunt freaks, freaks hunt me" (cit.)"Lady, – he whispered with concern, – your
eyes are so empty" (cit.)
We do not stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing. Never Be The First To Get Old!!
I am not responsible for what you think or say, just for what I say! I never howl with the wolves, don't speak another to hear. I have my own opinion & I insist. Those who do not get along have only themselves to blame.