ileah8
The bones of some animal were tied together in a sort of net around me, forming to my body, as though my captors had tied the net around me while I was sleeping. I wasn't sure why I was there, but I knew for sure that the bones looked to be human.
The crew cuts on the boys seemed unnecessary, for you could recognize what they were by just their stature: the way they stood tall and looked straight ahead, or made eye contact as though they were looking through you. It was a soulless sort of attitude that could only be portrayed by a person who didn't respect themselves, who gave themselves away freely. These men were either prostitutes or soldiers, though I'm sure the hookers downtown would be offended by the comparison.
The birth of a nation happens every day. A nation is not a collection of states. A nation does not have a geographic boundary or a representative authority. A nation is simply a group of similar people. As people begin to accept, nations will be born and lost. The best we can possibly hope for is a world of only one nation. But we consciously must no that such an ideal dream is impossible.
My hands hardly wavers as I pulled the gun at my waistband and pointed it at what I knew, even then, would be my first ever kill. Hardly. He stared as I moved the gun, making no move to stop me. I wasn't sure if he was too afraid to move or if he really really just thought I wouldn't do it.
writing since 2011 · 5 entries · 5 days shown up
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nationcloverssureconsciouslywindhardlygunthemselvesbonestiednetbedholdweightlessinchesground