Pale Pink Flowers
"Why not?" Anna thought as she contemplated jumping from her 13 story apartment building.
It was a windy night in February and the bright lights from the city blocked out the light from the stars.
The wind blew through Anna's hair shoulder length dyed black hair as she tugged on a loose thread of her raggedy, baggy black T shirt. The thread broke off in her fingers and she dropped it over the side of the building, sending it to it's fate.
She wondered to herself if she would be missed at all. Would her drunken father miss her? "No," she thought. How about her loveless, drugged up mother? "No," she thought to herself again. She didn't know anyone at school because everyone was too "cool" to hang out with her. No one wanted to ruin their beautiful reputation by hanging out with a "loser".
She stared down at the flower garden that was put in the front of the apartments to make the run down, trashy brick building look nice, or at least inhabitable. In the dim light she could barely see the whitish pink flowers. She pictured her lifeless, cold body resting peacefully among the flowers. She gave a slight smile at the thought.
She took off her black and white striped armwarmers to reveal countless pale scars and scarlet lines surrounding the word "LOST" which was carved into her left arm. She ran her fingers over the letters and remembered the beautiful pain that she felt when she dragged the blade across her skin to form the letters. She examined every cut and scar and remembered every action and emotion that drove her to put each one there. She remembered the two cuts she made when her parents got into a fistfight over money and drugs. She remembered the cuts she made when her she mouthed off at her father. He threw a punch at her and she ducked quickly, causing him to punch a hole in the living room wall. She realized that it was pointless to keep living this way.
Anna placed her hands on the ledge in front of her and felt the rough texture of the crumbling old brick.She shed a single tear that left a black trail down her face from her thickly lined eyes. It was the first time she had cried in years. She kept her tears inside for so long because she was frightened that her tears would show the world her inner weaknesses and that was the last thing she wanted. She was taught not to cry early in life by her father, who would lock her in a dark closet when she started to cry.
She stepped up onto the ledge in front of her and looked down over the flowers, 13 stories below her. She closed her eyes and thought of everything that made her want to do this. She stood there with her eyes closed for what seemed like an eternity and let the wind blow her hair around her face. She let the wind blow around her shirt and cool her torso and arms. She raised her head to the sky and spread her arms like beautiful pale wings that were radiant in the moonlight and she whispered, "Goodbye," to the world below her and she stepped off of the ledge. She was flying.
Her cold lifeless body rested among the pale pink flowers just as she had visioned it in her mind and she had finally found peace.
-Beautiful Disaster-
What a beautiful disaster
Sitting alone in a corner
Silent and cold
Neither brave nor bold
Weeping pitch black tears
With no hope left
Yet silently facing horrible fears
The fire in her eyes burns out
As blood pours from her veins
And her skin grows whiter than pearl
It seems to me
That this beautiful disaster
Has found a better world