Fault.
Such a familiar word.
Im not sure what it means and what it looks like but i can feel it.
I feel it for a long time since i can't remember.
I feel it brings heavy and pain.

People see me, im nervous.
Their pain eyes.
Their sorry eyes.
Their cynical eyes.
Their fellow eyes.

I'm going home.
I look in the mirror to find what people saw in me.
I can't get anything.
Ok, im going to sleep.

...

I wake up.
Remembering that last night i dreamt of my Mom wrote my middle name; Lauft, for hundred times.
Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft LauftLauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft LauftLauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft Lauft.......

I get the mirror.
And get my Mom stand behind me.

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Gone Awry about 9 years ago

My, my, you have quite the poetic style, sir (or ma'am, sorry if I got it wrong) I enjoyed your stories.

Gone Awry about 9 years ago

My, my, you have quite the poetic style, sir (or ma'am, sorry if I got it wrong) I enjoyed your stories.

mrlngn about 9 years ago

Thank you, Silver Anaconda. Im glad you enjoyed it.
Im madame, not Sir. :D

mrlngn (joined over 9 years ago)

Any input would be appreciated. Find me on twitter @mrlngn

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genres

thought

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Self

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