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Spilling down the stairs like a lost drink her thoughts tore at her brain, it was her life, a long slow motion pan through her life. Unmitigated uncensored truth permeating her brain, unable to stop it she soon began to except it. Memories from her childhood flipping by, slower and slower, last nights rain storm lighting up her windows like the sun. All so vivid yet still so fleeting.
Pain.
Harsh and unforgiving, rushing through her arm, now her neck, as though somethings broken, wrong.
Very wrong.
She had to move, to make a noise, to make them aware, yet there was no one around to hear, no them to help. The eyes of the cosmos looking down on her as though they waited to hear the deafening scream of terror emerge from her lips. She could be saved by a man, scooping her up and carrying her off, away from this treacherous land, filled with the poison flowers. But there was no sweet kind man to save her, only her self, her will and hers alone to save her.
Live.
Live.
Live to die another day.
The pain shot through her face as the cool cement embraced her lips, blood covering her face, the lipstick of sweet pavement. Many of her teeth had cracked or even come out, lips wide open, eyes swollen. This once pretty girl, now boorish and bleeding.
If she could move, away perhaps this all could have been avoided, all this pain this suffering.
No.
Every life has its downs, and its ups, they can't all be good times other wise we couldn't tell the difference between the two. Its like a shadow with out the light, meaningless with out the other, if even nonexistent.