I hear my mothers voice soft and comforting.....Her sides heaving with the strain to appear calm as if the dagger

in her chest did not hurt,as if she felt nothing ...... The joy my sister and I felt that day... That wondrous      day spent with mother our mama the dark haired  gypsy woman with eyes of the hazel thicket....Blackberry juice

staining our faces while trying to remain in fathers good graces... Acting the role of a perfect family singing,piano,violin,painting,writing and french all for his lordships daughters..... Our hearts ran free like our mothers... we longed to feel the wild unhindered wind on our faces..... That is when our precious mama and us  would escape to the hills.... The green hills where we

 

could sing wild songs of old ..... and eat the fruit our mother earth bears....oh the crystal lake the most delicious water you have ever had crisp cold and so clear you could see to the bottom..... That is where mother taught us the forbidden arts and how to control the gifts we were given........That is why father killed her and that is why we killed him.

 

 

 

I feel the rush of wind. I hear the buzz of bees.... my eyes tired of seeing wish to close and never see again... My ears which her things that should not be said wait my child listen to the breeze drown your dreams in the seas lost in the endless tides of confusion....  

 

The joy I feel is the sadness in my heart....If I were a DOLL I wouldn’t have to feel anything. Colder than ice and only the sham of being human... My dreams just get more wicked as I see the stars fall... The earth cracks and tumbles down as I am left in the shadows underground... The cemetery is cool and calm like my heart unmoving unyielding unchanging the same forever.. The dreams of a ravens crow and cackle stand feeling in my heart that should not be there..... No passion.No pleasure. No pain. My very movements are robotic... My soul does not exist,I have none. My questions fall on broken ears... Yelled at until you are confused. Human is overrated. If only I could change myself to be

 

 

The joy I feel is the sadness in my heart....If I were a DOLL I wouldn’t have to feel anything. Colder than ice and only the sham of being human... My dreams just get more wicked as I see the stars fall... The earth cracks and tumbles down as I am left in the shadows underground... The cemetery is cool and calm like my heart unmoving unyielding unchanging the same forever.. The dreams of a ravens crow and cackle stand feeling in my heart that should not be there..... No passion.No pleasure. No pain. My very movements are robotic... My soul does not exist,I have none. My questions fall on broken ears... Yelled at until you are confused. Human is overrated. If only I could change myself to be a DOLL.

 

I feel the butterflies lurking out my window asking me why did you do it? It wasn’t me I swear... lost in the never ending tide of  the abyss... Down in the cellar I hear her bones crumble... The butterflies fly around my window and ask why did you do it?    

In the family cemetery I stare at her empty grave. Cold stone against my fingertips. I hear her scream in my mind, I see her blood on my hands as if it were my own I feel my veins and remember I am her blood... Broken and unwilling to continue this facade I leave the mirror in the shade. So I will no longer look at myself... A sinfully  girl who left her house to find she returned a killer of dreams...
A demon of nightmares who riddle the mind with macabre notions and nightmares.. Feeding off the ill will of those who have passed on. bleeding the very image of herself dry... For it matters not. kill. kill . Kill your dreams.. 
 The butterflies move past me and ask why are you still here? The bird cries out in the night with the horrid voice of a woman. “Kill,kill die you wretch....”   
   I hear a squeek and a mew and I am released....

 

 

The missing page that which I can not remember how did it happen? I must remember before I go insan

 

 

 

The death of my soul is when I heard her bones again broken in the cellar whole but turned to dust  lost in a mixture of gold and broken glass of wine bottles
How many years have passed?  How old am I now? have I ever left this room .........No not for a hundred years.... As moss has grown over every inch of the stone floor in my room...my roses are overgrown...and the ivy creeps over the roof.. Ah, I hear the music floating from downstairs, so beautiful it reminds me of her...... Where, where does the music come from? In the kitchen? No. In the parlor? No. In the dining room? No. Ah I know and down to the cellar I go and there I see her as if she is alive still playing her music more beatiful than  the hum of heaven.... She lifts her hand to me as  the music still plays...”Come join me sister, For this is the time for the Dead.”     

 

 

I frightened  easily  and fled to the upper floor... It is as I feared the dead have come back to haunt me and as i shut the cellar door I heard a scream that would shred the soul.

 

Oh there she is between the thistle and thorn the birch and the oak the flower and the ivy.

 

long gone are her dreams of greatness, the world conquering feeling that passes upon many people in our realm. she seeks now only her joy, a simple life doing what she loves and holding what is dear to her. her days of solitude are near but she minds not for there is a joy in her solitude something that brings her bliss. oh the dreams she dreams if only her art could become real as she creates her own world the world that she sees and to where she belongs and truly lives.    

 

The coldness  is in the past the things that no longer exist in her mind . she is still with me. all my dreams i can make come true. she bears no grudge to me as I thought she would she has found peace and so shall I until this life leaves me and into the light and darkness her by my side shall we find a new life together.