onetwothreefour
Bluelight Crew
"born" - something i wrote when bored
i thought i'd post this because it's a little happier than my last thing, and i'm in a better mood...
i guess it's untitled, because it was really just spur of the moment. also, it's unedited...because i just don't really edit things
make of it what you will...criticism is welcome (and i'm quite happy to accept negative criticism too - i haven't really done *any* creative writing since primary school, so i'm going to suck, and criticism will help me get better...)
blood and sweat and tears of pain engulf me. my shrill screams escape, just, from the dark cavity i call home. trapped, happily, in these warm depths of darkness, i'm peaceful. i'm called to release, but resist.
i will not be removed without a fight. i ponder my self-awareness and grasp of language with interest, but return instead to the comfort of my immediate surroundings. the darkness is my solace. i begin to struggle, but continue to scream, continue to bleed. my brain throbs with new thought inside my rattled skull, my skin, slimy, is red, then white, then pink.
now my screams are joined by a louder, deeper howling - i retreat, as much as i can, in fear. muscle and bone, lubricated by blood and vomit and excrement, pulses against my own. i'm pushed forward, and out.
my eyes, my sight; before now unrealised. i sense light. pain. i continue to scream. hands grasp me; shocked, i kick my feeble legs out at the source of discomfort. i am born.
the cord from which i draw my strength, my life, is cut. i must find a new source. my lips, instinctively, force themselves open and i breathe air for the first time in my short life. it taste bitter. soon, i will learn this the taste of my life.
ok, so it wasn't entirely upbeat...but it sure felt better than the last one!
i thought i'd post this because it's a little happier than my last thing, and i'm in a better mood...
i guess it's untitled, because it was really just spur of the moment. also, it's unedited...because i just don't really edit things
make of it what you will...criticism is welcome (and i'm quite happy to accept negative criticism too - i haven't really done *any* creative writing since primary school, so i'm going to suck, and criticism will help me get better...)
blood and sweat and tears of pain engulf me. my shrill screams escape, just, from the dark cavity i call home. trapped, happily, in these warm depths of darkness, i'm peaceful. i'm called to release, but resist.
i will not be removed without a fight. i ponder my self-awareness and grasp of language with interest, but return instead to the comfort of my immediate surroundings. the darkness is my solace. i begin to struggle, but continue to scream, continue to bleed. my brain throbs with new thought inside my rattled skull, my skin, slimy, is red, then white, then pink.
now my screams are joined by a louder, deeper howling - i retreat, as much as i can, in fear. muscle and bone, lubricated by blood and vomit and excrement, pulses against my own. i'm pushed forward, and out.
my eyes, my sight; before now unrealised. i sense light. pain. i continue to scream. hands grasp me; shocked, i kick my feeble legs out at the source of discomfort. i am born.
the cord from which i draw my strength, my life, is cut. i must find a new source. my lips, instinctively, force themselves open and i breathe air for the first time in my short life. it taste bitter. soon, i will learn this the taste of my life.
ok, so it wasn't entirely upbeat...but it sure felt better than the last one!
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