http://slow.writerscafe.org/James97 The original writings of author James cross en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776219920 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Can you not see what you've done?Can you not see it in my eyes?Can you talk to me without spitting these lies!You've plunged the knife in deep, But i feel no pain.I'm already dead inside, what do you have to gain? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/James97/1411103/ Tis not your flesh that I seek, its your blood that i crave, No matter the struggle, your soul i shall deprave.Your body bled dry, your bones ground to dust, your rotting corpse is naught but a bust. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/James97/1259535/ Awake from your slumber, in the dead of night, feeling not wonder but dread and fright. A catastrophe, a tragedy, a simple accident has occurred. A loved one struck down left to die on the curb. Internally bleeding with bones broke in two, You watch the sniffling people break down around you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/James97/1259533/ A single drop, a tear that was shed, blood flowing from the wrists staining the skin red. A cry each night always goes unheard, you can hear her pain dripping from every word. At school she masks her sorrow with a smile, some peek through her facade but see her scar riddled arms as vile. They say no.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/James97/1247334/ m sorry .... I know it doesnt mean much, i wish it meant more, i wish sorry could show you, that i would comfort while you cry on the floor. I wish sorry could make everything better and im sorry it cant.I wish it could show that i love you most of all. And that you are my everything, my queen a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/James97/1187770/ Forevermore nothing shall matter for that which did matter has vanished into thin air, Leaving behind only a hollow shell and a broken spirit. The Sun no longer brings warmth and comfort, the air is not as crisp it was before, the world has lost its lively glow, it has been replaced with a never end.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/James97/1187767/ It's as if he is a man condemned to death. His memories, his pain, his sorrow, his anger, these things become one. A single rope that shall be the cause of his death. he sits weaving a noose from this horrible thing. Once he is finished, it is a true sight to behold, it seems so simple yet so comple.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/James97/1105645/ Here I lay upon my bed, night after night thoughts fillingwith dread. I look to the ceiling with a face full of sorrow, and pray that I shallnot live to see the morrow. But alas my prayers have gone unheard, for eachmorning I awaken to hear a song bird. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/James97/1055216/