mitchell vaddar ¤ district seven ¤ done

there is a midnight moon that leaves its silver light onto the ground, illuminating it for only those who spend their nights out and about and not inside the warmth of their home (and for some they have no home). drawn hearts on bathroom mirrors crawl into their depths of scarce and it's like they cannot escape because they'll slowly sink further and further into the waters until they're sitting at the bottom of the ocean, g o n e.

most say that i am not one that is fond of words, but i personally believe they just don't listen to the sound of breathing and the sound of nothing and those sounds are my words. breath filled with no meaning almost as if they're living for no reason and death probably seems much better.

they say i'm quiet, but i've seen more than they ever would (and they wouldn't want to see what i've seen). i'm falling into a world that the blackness engulfs me like it had eaten me whole and the only person walking in this wasteland consisting of bodies to turn their heads towards death and call it normal. loaded words of hatred filled in their throats and the slightest trigger can bring them out faster than most guns developed by the capitol.

the midnight moon travels in front of me; lighting the darkened night through my walk towards death.