My world.
Black skies.
Withering roses.
Destruction on every path.
...
In the dead of night,
I hear rustling bushes,
The whispering of the wind,
and crack of twigs.
...
Wake me up...
My imagination has gone wild...
I can't take this scene,
the horrifying dream.
...
I guess I should move on,
For it would be right.
I really can't keep these memories.
For they keep me up at night.
...
Hello, my name is Brooklyn Sorrow. I am a sweet, shy, christian girl. I've lost my little sister, my father and my brother. I'm shy because I just don't like to speak. I am also very sweet. I don't believe that I could hurt a fly. I was born and raised France. But the thing is I can't speak fluent freach, weird, I know. I can speak some of it. I guess I am pretty good.)
Suicide
Suicide.
So simple.
Suicide.
To good to pass up.
Suicide.
Small bottle of poison.
Poison wine.
Suicide.
Bleed.
Cut.
Put me to rest.
Sweet suicide.
Often thought about.
I have to much despair.
Let me see them again.
Suicide.
The word in my head.
Suicide.
My only escape.
Suicide.
The word many dread.
This word,
My favorite.
So many options...
For Suicide...