Franks

I’m alone. Sad, tired of trying, of living. Tired of waking  up to a bright happy world, and seeing nothing except grey, and things only I can see, hearing sounds of joy, but only hearing the voices of my despair. Franks gone now. Replaced, forgotten. Austins here. He’s just as bad. Eyes are staring, watching with a pointed loaded gun,  or a knife waiting for the right time. I am forgotten, none cares for the sake of me, waiting for the right time. 17. The magic number. 15, countdown. They say if I die, I’ll be back in my world, back in Hallaqu, with Austin, and Goob, Frank, and 200. My […]