I've learned a new trick. It's beautiful.
I draw a design, so pretty, so pretty, against bare flesh, with the fluid that girls spray against their hair. They use it for such useless things.
My way is MUCH more fun.
Then I take the small item that will set my beautiful design in place, and with a small click it is done.
And fire dances across my skin.
It burns, it burns, it burns-
But then it cools. The flames continue to devour my little design, drawn on with the spray that catches the orange and red and the infinite beauty so easily.
I love it.
I love it.
It's my new way, my new hobby.
My evolution from blade to flame.
I love it.
My Siren of an AngelRed hair. . .Stuck in such beautiful curls, yet always tousled. . .And green eyes, which stand out like emeralds in pallid white skin. . .
She's so beautiful. An angel, cast to Earth just to capture me. And yet. . .
Yet I can't find myself to take her as my own.
Why, you may ask? Well, simple. I am but a monster. I am known by many to kill, to murder. Then to slink back into the shadows and hide from the world. But, in truth, I am just hiding from the cruelty of the monsters that are left unpunished.
If only. . .I could just reach out and stroke the soft and flawless skin my angel owned. . .
Maybe then I would feel warmth.
My angel is wandering in the woods. Oh, if only she knew that is where I hide.
Maybe she does know? Maybe. . .Maybe my angel has come to find me?
No, she turns away. Wait. . .she looks back. Someone has summoned her- but I know she is looking at me.
Right at me.
Oh, my heart flutters weakly as she holds my gaze for just a moment, unknowing I am there, watch
It's nice to meet you!My name is Erin Marie Lunt. People tend to spell my name wrong. It's annoying. Also, I'm not Irish. But my name is. I was born on January 15th, 1998. Ever since then I've been afraid of the dark, scary movies, pictures, and judgement. For the first few years of my life, I lived happily. Instead of making real friends, I made imaginary ones until I was in fifth grade. I still remember a lot of them.
I love spirits. My house is haunted, and I talked to them a lot when I was younger. We spoke through the airvent when I was crying or alone. They were my friends, and I took to naming all of my imaginary friends "Spirit". I loved animals, and still do. I lie about a lot of things. My heritage, my family, even little things like how I feel.
I like to draw and write, even though I myself think I'm not good; no matter what others say. I'm very pessimistic, and I'm not afraid to show it.
I have dual personalities. Or triple. Or quadrupal. I don't know how many, but I'm never the same person more
UnfinishedYou're never the same age.
Not for a year, not for a month, a week, a day.
Not for a second, mili, or nano.
You're never the same person with the same memories;
But you're never anyone different.
Life goes by so quickly, our minds process it one million times slower.
People are born, people die, all before we can process it.
All before we can see it to remember it, life is snatched away.
But where does it go?
Where does the life, the time, the thoughts and memories go?
Will we ever find out?
Will we ever remember if we do?