Heartbreaka16

In the mailbox lies a particular letter that I hoped for. Littered with cute little drawings and marks, the slight scent of his cologne was evident. I anticipated his letter that he sent me. I opened it carefully, inhaling his particular scent that was spritzed on there. "I long for you every day and night. I pray every day for your safety. This is a 'Dear God' letter. Please be home soon, beautiful. If I could, I'd hold you forever. Even if I'm not there. I miss you, baby. Your sweetheart," He signs his name, Delicately in cursive. I hugged the note. Picturing him in my mind, just holding on to him. "Don't worry, I'll

The spotlight turns on, curtains drawn. The stage is set with pieces, and actors all over. Everyone is seeing most of the highlights of my life. From the littlest point, like my first steps to my first day of school. They are more on emphasis on the fictional, than the real truth of my life. Even on more emphasis on me being a troublesome child. Plus, they are all filming my life in photography. From Television to pictures to media. "Girl sent to juvie!" said the fake newspapers on stage. Which in all much retrospect, I was only grounded. Doesn't even every teenager get grounded? I look to the audience too, murmur and con

I fought for breath, through these ashes. I screamed when I fell, watching the ones that betrayed me. The ones I loved and fought along side with, gone to the shadows. I tried to reach for my pistol, but no bullets remained. I wanted to shoot them, showing them that what a mistake they made. I heard them say, "let her burn, she did this to us. There is no hope into going home!" No redemption, but no remorse. I guess this is what it feels like, to fall under. Red haze of flames, engulfed me. Black smoke clouded my vision. I felt my skin being burned, flesh, then muscle, and lastly, bone. Black all over, the taste and

Three chances, Three events. Close encounters, Fighting for your life. Was sick and hurt, suffocated and crushed. I screamed for life, or tried to fight for my life. I held on, gripped the last remaining strand of life. Had danced with Death, But won a second chance every time. I fought for my life and existence, To make my place for the world. Fear for your life, has came to pass. Not afraid to fear, The reaper. I always believed in second chances, For everything. My heart is always told me, "Give a second chance, and at least the number of times you've danced with Death..." "THREE."

I look to my left, and my right with my vision. I see the smoke and flames, licking the air as it kicks up. I scream out with my hoarse voice, for what I have done. I shouldn't have burned it, but it already has burned my memory. I fight through the crowd of people, to get to the other side. My unmistakable reddish brunette hair was showing through. People kept asking, "what have you done?!" I shout back, "I did what I had to do!" I thrust myself through the crowd and I eventually get out. I look back to what I have done, seeing what I have left in my wake. It was a catastrophe, but I burned it to get through. It took mu