captainawesomepants
The jury watches with cold menacing eyes. Jugemental eyes. The eyes of a preditor. They watch me as if I am a lamb ready for the slaughter. Not as if I didn't slaughter. I didnt mean it!
She deserved it.
That witch.
I guess I am just a lamb for the slaughter.
Why do we do what we do, and see what we see? Is it because we are not real and they are not real? Is the only thing real them or me or us? A sea of faces and places that is not real. It is truly a mystery, a real and true mystery. Who are we? We are the faces on the moon and the "who" when they call out. We are the watchers and the waiters.