Spiral Staircase.
The easel falls as he clenches his chest, then rips through his hair with both hands...before covering his darkend, wet face. He removes his salt-encased hands from his brow, and stares at the dissapointment, the hatred, the hurt, the anger, the pain, the politics, and the beautiful eyes back at him. Buddies.Friends.Laughter.Mistrust.Lies.False Redemption.
The ink runs off the page now and seemingly explodes from his blackened, damp shirt. He hides. This is all he knows how to do. Everytime he stands up, they break his knees again. They break his senses again.
He picks up his sword and looks down at his shackles again. This time, like always...they reappear when he does what he does best.
He'll walk on. No matter what they say or do.
Peace and Love
The ink runs off the page now and seemingly explodes from his blackened, damp shirt. He hides. This is all he knows how to do. Everytime he stands up, they break his knees again. They break his senses again.
He picks up his sword and looks down at his shackles again. This time, like always...they reappear when he does what he does best.
He'll walk on. No matter what they say or do.
Peace and Love