When I left high school and came to this place, I entered a home–no really–a stable home.
I was broken down and ground into the dirt. I grew with spring and was “parented” by a group of false adults. I fell, tripped, and stumbled my way along. I made mistakes, but regretted nothing. I found my own two feet at some point and set my roots in. I grew. Branched out. Touched a lot of things, people. Some made me angry and some made me dance the night away.
I grew and grew. Soon I grew too big for this place. Is it really my fault that I’m a single, attractive female? I think not.
Soon my home became a disease, just like the last. What started as the truth developed into a gossip infested whore house. The respect and love I had for this place withered.
It was like a poison. I soon saw that its walls were bleached to cover the splatter of tainted words. I saw its people were not so prime and proper. Rather half demon–those who delight on the half devoured carcasses of their mates. The air, once so perfect, left a bitter taste in my mouth. The adults are really vile children at heart and much like the romans of their age delight in conflict of the human soul.
Little do they know that they surrendered their souls along time ago. They marked themselves by their vain existence. The very words they utter are the burden they will carry on their hearts one day.
Their hearts will fill with tar from all the regrets they have. The very gossip spilled from their mouths will one day be the very thing that makes them cry. Revenge is a dish beat served cold and I hope they enjoy the taste of victory now because karma tastes like shit.
That is their home in hell and they can keep it. I prefer to be homeless, carry my heart on my wings and fly free.