Psycho-wolf131

If I could go back and relive all the days I regret, to possibly alter the always wavering future- I would redo a lot of them. So maybe I could learn to live with myself. I would start with the day I had a chance to speak up when they asked me about the atrocious things you did to all those little girls; myself included. That was supposed to be the day I put an end to your terror, and they'd put you in a cell. But there I stood,  sweat forming in between my small childish hands as my mind raced with the words my mouth couldn't seem to form. My legs paralyzed, sculpted into stone as I wanted to run from the truth of what had happened. Still t

I sat there, recognizing that his anger had started to smolder years before. Had it been stemmed from my mother or years before in his childhood, I wasn't sure. We sat on the back patio, wasting the night away. A drink in his hand, and I clutched a basketball tightly against me, as though that would somehow protect me from whatever he had to say. I was used to the malicious words that beat against my eardrums, but for once, I was greeted by laughter. He looked me in the eyes as he told me stories about my mother and him. Their success, mistakes, the good and the bad stories; anything he thought I should know. Like somehow all of this would p

My grandmother's funeral        Tears raced down a few of my relative’s faces and I couldn’t bring myself to continue looking at them. My cousin Emily tried wiping them away, but it was an endless flow of sorrow. As she and a few other unfamiliar faces did that, I cringed in discomfort at the fact that I couldn’t do anything to change the fact that we were at a funeral. Two days before New Years and we had found ourselves at a funeral for Patricia Scheppke, my great grandmother. I think this was the last place I expected to find myself. In fact, I don’t think anyone else thought of the day that Pat would pass away.

A small giggle escaped her strawberry encased lips, as she put a hand up to silent it. There was nothing comparable I told myself. The sides of her mouth curved up into a sly smile that could only be deciphered by a philosopher.  Topping it off with the golden blonde locks of hair that framed her tanned face. It was apparent she had spent her share underneath the sun's warmth. Before I could utter a word, she turned around and dashed in between the evergreens. I could hear the crunch of pine needles, and it triggered the movement of my own feet. I chased, like a wild animal, only letting instinct control my actions. I finally caught up to

Who are you anymore? I want to cry out as I wake up in the middle of the night expecting to find that familiar face I loved as a brother and instead come up with a tapestry of torn memories. When I do get a glimpse at you, I see someone who would find innocence foreign. Where lies are a comfort, and trust is an apparition that doesn't exist. I stand there, not caring if they see me stare. As they surround themselves, excluding you for the moment, and you try to join the conversation. Once again, your words are inaudible to them. You start to feel that villainous taste in the back of your throat. And it feels as though your throat is constr

 "Chief Anderson?" The knock startled me. Quickly my head came up, and I sat up to my desk before me. I stared forlornly for a moment at the papers scattered everywhere.  How long had I been asleep? "Come in," I said, trying to gain composure without my voice shaking. The familiar creaking of the wooden door opened and my fellow officer stepped in.     "Uh.. Mr.Anderson, I don't mean to disturb you, b-but we have a small inclination," Collin's words came out shakily, as he slowly pushed back a dark strand of hair that had been disheveled. He was a young lad, in size as well. Only the age of 23, and his height only reached 5'4. I towered

10-16-12 That blue eyed replica of myself fades into the background as his peers just shrug their shoulders and carry on with their lives. He thinks silence is a saviour even though tears continue to stream down his face. Maybe for some who truly have lost the will to continue on, and their voice. Yet I know I have heard your blood curdling scream rip through the warm summer air.  I close my eyes, and a vivid image appears through all the fog. An image of ten years in the future. You'll be 28 and wondering why life has passed you by so quickly. Tall, slim, and possibly even lanky. Walking over to lean against a crimson brick colored wall.

 I walked down the empty street, my footsteps softly echoing as my pace quickened. My destination undecided, but my intentions sure footed. In the distance, I could see a shadow dancing on the brick road from the small amount of movement. I narrowed my eyes, trying to make out the identity. I found a narrow waist, full hips, and slightly drawn back shoulders. Something that used to be pure, one of God's children. Now, corrupted and wicked. Then I had to ask myself, is it a man's thoughts that turned a girl wicked in his own mind, or was it that all women were just simply seductive creatures? Quietly I approached the woman, who turned ou

I want to shout at you, to demand that you leave and never associate yourself with me again. Except, I know I can't.. It's.. My throat closes up. Your words constrict around my throat, taking away the possibility of breathing, as well as any happiness that remains. Ticking away like an hourglass. Where did time go? Why did you leave me here? My questions, so obscured that you didn't have to think about them and you certainly didn't face them. You were cowardly enough to look away after I was ruthlessly locked in the back of your mind. These shackles and tape are too heavy for one person. What happened to learning to hate you? All of that s

 Just your mannerisms should rebuff these lusty feelings. They're tugging at my sleeves and contradicting every step I try to take away from you. Not even my conscious can drown out what I know is wrong. Leaving me to dryly swallow a subtle hatred in what knowledge I've retained hence you screwed me over. Yet I can't draw myself away. Making me question just what kind of person this makes me. It puzzles me how I accompany you even though every word you speak to me is another door being slammed in my face. Why is it that I'm so infatuated with someone who pays me no heed? I almost wish I didn't know how to answer these questions. So I could