Title: A girl. A death. An angel
by Alice from London | in writing, fiction
I went past a shop and noticed some black roses. Black roses, I thought, just the thing I need. I bought them, even though they we're very expensive. I squeezed them hard, letting the thorns bite into my skin and my blood covering the rose. I headed for the grave yard. The black rose lay on my parents' grave, blood dripping from it, slowly, every drop hurting more then the tears I've cried. Only the unlucky live, I thought. Not a tear rolled down my cheek. God, if you're up there, "WHY!". Staring at the sky, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and fell on my parents' grave.
I just get inspiration from what I hear people say, and from what I see in real life. This is only a part of a long life lasting story.
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