Written after watching like four crime documentaries. I have no idea what's wrong with this dada or what it's about. NOTE: Some foul language is used in most of my dada. If you don't get what dada is, ask me, I'll explain it.
The disappearance of Heather Sellers. The murder on the tip of your tongue, last chance broken. If you had a gun, you'd kill her. You're that close to losing all sense of human civility. He turned to face you; from the look in his eyes, you knew that you're his last shot. He speaks, the words tumbling out of his mouth as if he cannot bear to hold them inside any longer. You kept on walking, giving the man no notice. He was unconvinced. "Please, you have to help me!" Your mistake was realized when he becomes a news story with the headline "Man Jumps From Building." Weep for those who have fallen. Weep for the one I will not name, his name stains my thoughts, his death stains my mind, his blood stains my hands. The day remains perfectly clear in my memory. Even if I lost all else it would still bring me down. Staring at a brick wall, all I can envision is a darkness all-encompassing. You don't even have to worry anymore. I will say it now, once, for all to hear. I killed him. Were it not for my actions, he would still be here, sitting with his sister underneath his favorite tree, crimson eyes twinkling in the light of the sun. His heart warmed the lives of those around him. He had no greed nor envy and sorrow was all but a myth to him. There was never a more perfect soul. The day of the upturning. Insults hurled like bricks. Things were said which cannot be taken back. In the end, she forgave herself for what she had done. I've lost count of the days since you died. I'm out of blood and the seal has long since healed. There is not a trace that you ever existed. There's no grave for you, either. So, when you see me walking with the shovel, worry not. I won't be digging my own grave, but his. Even if there's nothing to bury, I should lay his mind to rest; it's been laid on mine for far too long. No wonder I'm so exhausted; my heart beats for two. Eventually, when you've been grieving for so long, you can't even feel sadness or pain from it. It's not getting over it, it's getting used to it. In truth, you will eventually get over it. Hanging out with your friends and family again, discovering new things, you'll come to realize that it no longer affects you. That day came for me, a single tear falling into a lake. I miss you. But life moves on. As sad and cruel as it is, it is as true as the world. Sorrow fades with time and wounds will heal; it's something we all have to learn on our own.
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