by MagicGirl_Helia » Wed Feb 01, 2012 5:26 pm
Allie leaned back in the chair. Not wanting to see what her arm looked like. Blood didn't bother her, but she tended to have a fairly active imagination. 'I didn't hit it that bad, did I ?' She asked her self and looked at the ring on her finger.
"And wouldn't it be nice to live together,
In the kind of world where we belong..."
They were never scared
of the kids who might die,
or the empty spaces
they would leave behind.
"They were afraid of us
The ones who lived."
"It is the fire.
The spark.
Black is the color of memory.
It is our color.
The only one they'll use
to tell our story."
“I used to dream
about turning back time,
about reclaiming
the things I'd lost
and the person I used to be.
But not anymore.”