Post by Kurt Burton: Script Doctor! on Feb 15, 2008 18:21:28 GMT -5
UNTIL IT SLEEPS
**********
Peering down into the abyss is a dangerous game. Learning your demons, studying them, tracking them, hunting them, the outcome can be quite startling. Many fall along the way to their demons, they become nothing more than fleshy puppets, which the evil of their souls command. They are Oblivious, Bringing Oblivion not only to themselves, but also delivering destruction to those who surround them. These are a sad and sorry lot, with over-inflated senses of self-worth, an exaggerated hubris which lifts them high into the clouds, until those demons decide to cut their chords, and bring them back down to earth in an ultimately terrible and messy awakening.
Others turn tail and run. They encounter their demons, and see the snarling jagged jaw of impending doom, and they falter, their legs do the fighting now. The fight is not about conquering the darkness that sleeps inside of you, but rather of living in ignorance, trying to forget the piercing black eyes, and the blood freezing smell they encountered that day. But the demons will not be satisfied, they wish REACTION from their prey. And so these poor souls are doomed to run for eternity.
Many see the demons, and draw the line in the sand, they hover over the abyss, their ethereal swords in hand, preparing for battle should the beast ever show his head. The dirt and blood stains those brave souls who chose this path, fighting a war within themselves that will never be won. But they fight, every day of their lives, to quell those insurmountable monsters of their souls, and the fight rages until the day they draw their final breath.
Most frightening however, are those who do not fight, do not run, nor do they fall prey. They bargain. With thirty pieces of silver they betray their bodies, their souls, their hearts, their minds, and lie down with the beast inside the blackness. They join with the DEVIL, Letting them have their way. But not for long. They harness these foul creatures, and wish for them to do their bidding, transforming themselves into that very same creature they once peered at.
The vast whole of humanity is unaware of this darkness to begin with. Very few ever bother to take a journey down into the pit of their own soul, and so those sheep become blissfully unaware of the abyss inside of them. These people are the Survivors of the human race, their ignorance is their bliss, their saving grace. Only a handful ever reaches the point that I have.
And here I am, standing on the edge of the precipice, smelling the crude vapors, and peering into the blackness. It is so dark, I couldn’t dream of seeing what formed this, but I know what has feed it. Myself, my ignorance, my foolishness, my pride, has allowed this teeming pool of blackness to overtake me. And now I am faced with a choice, four options, I can fight and fail, fight for my whole life, run away, or sell my soul. None of those options seems to be what I imagined for myself.
I wonder how I could have turned a blind eye for so long, and allowed this teeming pool to reach this far. Be it the games of certain individuals, or the general apathy and malaise which has set in over me, I know one thing. I have allowed these demons to rule me for far too long, and now, and now it is time for me to decide.
The apartment is starting to reach a state of normalcy. After my encounter with Wayne, I have decided to clean this place up immediately. We were gone for three days, but somehow, six bags worth of garbage had materialized on our floor. I am not the cleanest person alive, but that is ing ridiculous. I did manage to get the odor out of the air, though it took me two bottles of Febreeze, and I can finally see carpet, so I think my work here is done.
It is late, probably two or three in the morning. I can’t tell, since some idiot burn boy broke the display on the cable box. But it is time. I walk down the hall to Kat’s room. I knock lightly on the door, but there is no answer. I rap my fist against the door again, louder this time. Still no answer. I twist the handle, but the door does not budge.
! It can never be easy.
I return to the living room, and dial her cell. My ears are greeted by the peppy tones of the Super Mario theme. Song. I love call tones. Oddly, I find myself bobbing to the rhythm, even humming along from time to time in the song.
“Hi!”
I hang up, it’s the voice mail. No one would be this peppy at this time of night. I redial. And almost instantly, she answers.
“What?” Her voice drags low, as though her body is fighting against the one word coming from her mouth.
“Come into the living room.”
She hangs up, and I sit there, awaiting her.
She comes into the living, her hair dangled in her face, the rage simmering behind those glassy sleepy eyes. She sits down on the couch opposite of me, and glares. There is no sound in the room, and the silence blankets me in chills, running from top to bottom.
“All right, I know that I broke the unwritten eleventh commandment, ‘Thou shalt not waketh sleeping Kat.’ But please, hear me out.”
Her eyes say no, but the fact that she has remained planted on the couch and is not returning to her room or gouging my eyes out is a sign that she will give me this opportunity to voice myself. I stand, my nerves are rattled so bad right now, I can’t stay still. As I pace back and forth along my couch, I try to think of the way to start this.
“All right, I am going to start this off by saying, I am sorry. I am sorry for everything that I did in that hotel room. I am sorry for keeping so many truths from you, and so, I guess it is time to come clean about everything.”
I take a deep breath, and hold it in. I do not know if I am truly prepared for what I am about to say. I do not know what kind of creature will be unleashed from this Pandora’s Box.
February 14th, 1998- Cincinatti Ohio
A young Kurt Burton stands at the door, along with a vivacious, beautiful, though lanky, young woman. They are carrying knapsacks with them.
Girl: We are heading to the conference now. We will be back tomorrow.
From inside the kitchen, Reverend Burton steps out. His demeanor is as it is, even today, harsh, and rough. He is wiping a plate down, as he stares at the two youngsters.
Reverend: You keep an eye on your sister, Curtis. You make sure that nothing happens to her.
Kurt: I'll try dad. But keeping Trixie out of trouble is impossible.
She punches him playfully on his arm, and he feigns agony.
Reverend: I love you, Beatrice and Curtis, you two be safe now.
Trixie: We'll be fine.
The two teenagers dart out the door.
Outside, they quickly hop in a beaten up Old Pontiac, the type of car a parent gives a teenager because they do not want them wrecking the good cars. Trixie starts the ignition, and peels out. The two are on the road soon, heading towards Cincinatti.
Trixie: You're cover story is brilliant Kurt, they will never suspect a thing.
Kurt: You know dad, feed him a line about God, and he'll buy it hook line and sinker.
Her excitement overwhelms her, and she drums on the steering wheel.
Trixie: I can't believe we are going to see METALLICA!
Kurt: I can't believe you hooked up with Zak Darylson.
Trixie: We're meeting up after the show...
Kurt: Across the street at Starbucks. Yeah I got it. I won't be late.
Hours later
The concert has ended, and Kurt is standing around with his friends. The hours pass by, their enebriation grows, the disdain from the Starbucks employee builds, but still, no sign of Trixie.
******
"I waited, and waited for her, but she never showed up. Finally my friend Kyle drove me home. I was so hammered, I saw the police cars infront of our house, but I didn't think anything of it. I don't know if it was because I was drunk, or because I was stupid, or maybe both. My father was a prominent member of our neighborhood, and so various people such as police, at all hours of the night.
I climbed into my window, and tried to fall asleep. Our plan was to split a hotel room, and I know realize how dumb it would have looked with me being there and her not.
My father attacked me, within moments of me sliding into bed. A police officer came in and said words which made me sick to my stomach.
'This isn't going to bring her back.' "
*************
Inside the Cincinatti police district, the young Kurt Burton sits, struggling with no luck to keep his woozy head above the hard steel table. As he finally slumps down, he falls into an enebriated slumber on the table.
A thick file folder slamming down next to his ear perks him back up. He jolts to his feet, but in his drunkeness he falls backward.
He looks up from the ground, and he sees a portly detective, his face shadowed with stuble. His nicely pressed suit stands out from the man next to him, a tall balding man wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The tall man looks angry. Well, that's an understatement. The chubby one speaks first.
Det. Dorian: My name is detective Dorian, and this is my partner, Detective Hedges.
Hedges step over to Kurt, menacingly, the boy is lost in his shadow. The detective scoops him up by his shoulder and throws him back into his chair.
Kurt: What's going on?
Hedges: You know what's going on.
Kurt: I don't. Really... I don't.
Dorian looks over to Hedges.
Dorian: Alcohol does impare the pathways of the brain. The nurons can't fire off properly. He might not know where he dumped his sister.
Kurt's eyes grow wide in shock.
Kurt: Dumped my sister? What are you talking about.
Dorian: It might not come back to him for a while.
Kurt: What are you talking about?
Hedges: You know damn well what we are talking about punk. You raped your sister. You hacked her up, and you left her on the side of I-75 for the ravens.
Kurt: I don't know what you are...
As he tries to plead his innocence, Dorian watches him, he slides a photograph in front of him which silences the boy.
Dorian: You don't remember doing this?
The boy eyes it and horror wraps its tentacles around his face.
Kurt: NO!
The boy begins to cry. he holds his head in his hands.
Hedges: You need to stop messing around and come clean.
He swipes the arm away from the blubbering boy.
Hedges: You left with her, you came back alone.
Kurt: I couldn't find her car, I thought she left me.
Dorian: Maybe this will jog your memory a bit further.
The man slides another photo... this time in color. Most of the sheet is covered in red.
The boy looks at it, and he cannot control his anguish. He vomits all over the room, as he turns to try to flee.
Kurt: Oh God! What did I do? WHy did I let you go with him?
Kurt crawls up in a ball in the corner, rocking himself as he weeps. Dorian leaves his seat, he slides up gracefully next to Kurt.
Dorian: Who Kurt? Who was she with?
Kurt: Zak Darylson.
The two detectives glance at each other, and leave the room.
Dorian: Curtis, your parents are waiting for you in the lobby. I am... sorry.
The next weeks were terrible. They caught Zak, fleeing in our car. He still had her blood staining his shirt. My father held me responsible, and I was. I knew all about Zak. I remember. Once, at school, he told me how a girl from his old class wouldn’t put out, so he took it. And I never said anything.
My parents, especially my father, were the ones who really took it out on me. I thought I was hard on myself, but my father… He always loved Trixie as his favorite. He held her so near and dear, he had hopes she would pursue the word of God, just as him. He prayed every night for the day she got the call. He blamed me that she never would.
I was locked inside of a closet for her funeral. They didn’t want me there. They said I was just as much responcible as the murderer who cut her up. I tried to run away from home, so many times, but I was caught, and returned. That’s when the beatings started. Almost every night, that man would lay into me.”
I look at her, her eyes were welling up with tears.
“That’s terrible Kurt. My God.”
I did not even realized that I was slumped back on the couch, rocking myself back and forth, crying, sobbing, weeping, like that weak willed little teenager. Kat steps up from her couch, and approached me. She wraps her arms around me.
“I want to wake up, but I can’t. And now… I see her. She was there, at the mall, in the hotel room, in the car with Wayne. She was there each time. That bloody, fractured unrecognizable face, I can’t get it out.”
She squeezes me tighter.
“Kurt, you just need to let go. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was. It has all been my fault. It is always my fault! Where we are at, where my life is, my drinking, my career stalling, all of it is MY FAULT!”
She holds me there, all night, and all morning. I cried, and poured everything into her.
I am not a happy person right now. I am sick of all the drama. But, it is time. Time to clear this out of my head, the memories that haunted me all of these years, break free of my stigma, break free of myself.
I have aired my grievances in being in the tag division, but I have no recourse, no option, but to fight, and fight hard.
Fight! So that two cocky young pricks that were given the opportunity of a lifetime and spat it back in our face don’t reap the rewards of their ill begotten actions. Chemical Reaction, you ingrates. Do you think that when we step in between those ropes, we are going to lay down for you? I was hoping that we could have made this a clean friendly competition, but you went and made things personal.
Fight! So that a washed up indy wrestler and his potential gay brother do not claim a prize they have never won. Shawn, I understand that you want to go out in a blaze of glory. I understand, you are looking at your life, and saying, “I haven’t accomplished anything. My knee is blown, and I just want to say, I WAS CHAMPION.” But you won’t be. Plain and simple.
Fight! So that two men who have fallen prey to their demons, or embraced them, will not win the reward they so desperately seek for their unspeakable actions. I cannot allow a rapist and a man who attempts murder by rabies to become champions of this illustrious federation. Be careful bioys, because one of these days, the fuzz will find you, and then we don’t have to worry about you anymore.
Fight! For a friend. A weary friend, a friend who has supported me since the day I met him, and I was too blind to see it. If we… if I fail, his spirit may never recover. After all those two monsters have put him through, especially the hobo, I cannot fall short of my goal, even if my heart is not totally in it.
Fight! I have made my decision. I have drawn my line in the sand. I will not be subject to my demons any longer. I will not lay down with them, I will not hide, I will not be destroyed.
I WILL FIGHT!
So tear me open, pour me out
The things inside that scream and shout
And the pain still hates me, so hold me until it sleeps
[/i] [/center]The things inside that scream and shout
And the pain still hates me, so hold me until it sleeps
**********
Peering down into the abyss is a dangerous game. Learning your demons, studying them, tracking them, hunting them, the outcome can be quite startling. Many fall along the way to their demons, they become nothing more than fleshy puppets, which the evil of their souls command. They are Oblivious, Bringing Oblivion not only to themselves, but also delivering destruction to those who surround them. These are a sad and sorry lot, with over-inflated senses of self-worth, an exaggerated hubris which lifts them high into the clouds, until those demons decide to cut their chords, and bring them back down to earth in an ultimately terrible and messy awakening.
Others turn tail and run. They encounter their demons, and see the snarling jagged jaw of impending doom, and they falter, their legs do the fighting now. The fight is not about conquering the darkness that sleeps inside of you, but rather of living in ignorance, trying to forget the piercing black eyes, and the blood freezing smell they encountered that day. But the demons will not be satisfied, they wish REACTION from their prey. And so these poor souls are doomed to run for eternity.
Many see the demons, and draw the line in the sand, they hover over the abyss, their ethereal swords in hand, preparing for battle should the beast ever show his head. The dirt and blood stains those brave souls who chose this path, fighting a war within themselves that will never be won. But they fight, every day of their lives, to quell those insurmountable monsters of their souls, and the fight rages until the day they draw their final breath.
Most frightening however, are those who do not fight, do not run, nor do they fall prey. They bargain. With thirty pieces of silver they betray their bodies, their souls, their hearts, their minds, and lie down with the beast inside the blackness. They join with the DEVIL, Letting them have their way. But not for long. They harness these foul creatures, and wish for them to do their bidding, transforming themselves into that very same creature they once peered at.
The vast whole of humanity is unaware of this darkness to begin with. Very few ever bother to take a journey down into the pit of their own soul, and so those sheep become blissfully unaware of the abyss inside of them. These people are the Survivors of the human race, their ignorance is their bliss, their saving grace. Only a handful ever reaches the point that I have.
And here I am, standing on the edge of the precipice, smelling the crude vapors, and peering into the blackness. It is so dark, I couldn’t dream of seeing what formed this, but I know what has feed it. Myself, my ignorance, my foolishness, my pride, has allowed this teeming pool of blackness to overtake me. And now I am faced with a choice, four options, I can fight and fail, fight for my whole life, run away, or sell my soul. None of those options seems to be what I imagined for myself.
I wonder how I could have turned a blind eye for so long, and allowed this teeming pool to reach this far. Be it the games of certain individuals, or the general apathy and malaise which has set in over me, I know one thing. I have allowed these demons to rule me for far too long, and now, and now it is time for me to decide.
<***>
The apartment is starting to reach a state of normalcy. After my encounter with Wayne, I have decided to clean this place up immediately. We were gone for three days, but somehow, six bags worth of garbage had materialized on our floor. I am not the cleanest person alive, but that is ing ridiculous. I did manage to get the odor out of the air, though it took me two bottles of Febreeze, and I can finally see carpet, so I think my work here is done.
It is late, probably two or three in the morning. I can’t tell, since some idiot burn boy broke the display on the cable box. But it is time. I walk down the hall to Kat’s room. I knock lightly on the door, but there is no answer. I rap my fist against the door again, louder this time. Still no answer. I twist the handle, but the door does not budge.
! It can never be easy.
I return to the living room, and dial her cell. My ears are greeted by the peppy tones of the Super Mario theme. Song. I love call tones. Oddly, I find myself bobbing to the rhythm, even humming along from time to time in the song.
“Hi!”
I hang up, it’s the voice mail. No one would be this peppy at this time of night. I redial. And almost instantly, she answers.
“What?” Her voice drags low, as though her body is fighting against the one word coming from her mouth.
“Come into the living room.”
She hangs up, and I sit there, awaiting her.
She comes into the living, her hair dangled in her face, the rage simmering behind those glassy sleepy eyes. She sits down on the couch opposite of me, and glares. There is no sound in the room, and the silence blankets me in chills, running from top to bottom.
“All right, I know that I broke the unwritten eleventh commandment, ‘Thou shalt not waketh sleeping Kat.’ But please, hear me out.”
Her eyes say no, but the fact that she has remained planted on the couch and is not returning to her room or gouging my eyes out is a sign that she will give me this opportunity to voice myself. I stand, my nerves are rattled so bad right now, I can’t stay still. As I pace back and forth along my couch, I try to think of the way to start this.
“All right, I am going to start this off by saying, I am sorry. I am sorry for everything that I did in that hotel room. I am sorry for keeping so many truths from you, and so, I guess it is time to come clean about everything.”
I take a deep breath, and hold it in. I do not know if I am truly prepared for what I am about to say. I do not know what kind of creature will be unleashed from this Pandora’s Box.
<***>
Where do I take this pain of mine?
I run but it stays right by my side.
[/color] [/center]Where do I take this pain of mine?
I run but it stays right by my side.
February 14th, 1998- Cincinatti Ohio
A young Kurt Burton stands at the door, along with a vivacious, beautiful, though lanky, young woman. They are carrying knapsacks with them.
Girl: We are heading to the conference now. We will be back tomorrow.
From inside the kitchen, Reverend Burton steps out. His demeanor is as it is, even today, harsh, and rough. He is wiping a plate down, as he stares at the two youngsters.
Reverend: You keep an eye on your sister, Curtis. You make sure that nothing happens to her.
Kurt: I'll try dad. But keeping Trixie out of trouble is impossible.
She punches him playfully on his arm, and he feigns agony.
Reverend: I love you, Beatrice and Curtis, you two be safe now.
Trixie: We'll be fine.
The two teenagers dart out the door.
Outside, they quickly hop in a beaten up Old Pontiac, the type of car a parent gives a teenager because they do not want them wrecking the good cars. Trixie starts the ignition, and peels out. The two are on the road soon, heading towards Cincinatti.
Trixie: You're cover story is brilliant Kurt, they will never suspect a thing.
Kurt: You know dad, feed him a line about God, and he'll buy it hook line and sinker.
Her excitement overwhelms her, and she drums on the steering wheel.
Trixie: I can't believe we are going to see METALLICA!
Kurt: I can't believe you hooked up with Zak Darylson.
Trixie: We're meeting up after the show...
Kurt: Across the street at Starbucks. Yeah I got it. I won't be late.
Hours later
The concert has ended, and Kurt is standing around with his friends. The hours pass by, their enebriation grows, the disdain from the Starbucks employee builds, but still, no sign of Trixie.
******
"I waited, and waited for her, but she never showed up. Finally my friend Kyle drove me home. I was so hammered, I saw the police cars infront of our house, but I didn't think anything of it. I don't know if it was because I was drunk, or because I was stupid, or maybe both. My father was a prominent member of our neighborhood, and so various people such as police, at all hours of the night.
I climbed into my window, and tried to fall asleep. Our plan was to split a hotel room, and I know realize how dumb it would have looked with me being there and her not.
My father attacked me, within moments of me sliding into bed. A police officer came in and said words which made me sick to my stomach.
'This isn't going to bring her back.' "
*************
Inside the Cincinatti police district, the young Kurt Burton sits, struggling with no luck to keep his woozy head above the hard steel table. As he finally slumps down, he falls into an enebriated slumber on the table.
A thick file folder slamming down next to his ear perks him back up. He jolts to his feet, but in his drunkeness he falls backward.
He looks up from the ground, and he sees a portly detective, his face shadowed with stuble. His nicely pressed suit stands out from the man next to him, a tall balding man wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The tall man looks angry. Well, that's an understatement. The chubby one speaks first.
Det. Dorian: My name is detective Dorian, and this is my partner, Detective Hedges.
Hedges step over to Kurt, menacingly, the boy is lost in his shadow. The detective scoops him up by his shoulder and throws him back into his chair.
Kurt: What's going on?
Hedges: You know what's going on.
Kurt: I don't. Really... I don't.
Dorian looks over to Hedges.
Dorian: Alcohol does impare the pathways of the brain. The nurons can't fire off properly. He might not know where he dumped his sister.
Kurt's eyes grow wide in shock.
Kurt: Dumped my sister? What are you talking about.
Dorian: It might not come back to him for a while.
Kurt: What are you talking about?
Hedges: You know damn well what we are talking about punk. You raped your sister. You hacked her up, and you left her on the side of I-75 for the ravens.
Kurt: I don't know what you are...
As he tries to plead his innocence, Dorian watches him, he slides a photograph in front of him which silences the boy.
Dorian: You don't remember doing this?
The boy eyes it and horror wraps its tentacles around his face.
Kurt: NO!
The boy begins to cry. he holds his head in his hands.
Hedges: You need to stop messing around and come clean.
He swipes the arm away from the blubbering boy.
Hedges: You left with her, you came back alone.
Kurt: I couldn't find her car, I thought she left me.
Dorian: Maybe this will jog your memory a bit further.
The man slides another photo... this time in color. Most of the sheet is covered in red.
The boy looks at it, and he cannot control his anguish. He vomits all over the room, as he turns to try to flee.
Kurt: Oh God! What did I do? WHy did I let you go with him?
Kurt crawls up in a ball in the corner, rocking himself as he weeps. Dorian leaves his seat, he slides up gracefully next to Kurt.
Dorian: Who Kurt? Who was she with?
Kurt: Zak Darylson.
The two detectives glance at each other, and leave the room.
Dorian: Curtis, your parents are waiting for you in the lobby. I am... sorry.
<***>
Just like a curse, just like a stray
You feed it once and now it stays
How it stays
[/color][/center]Just like a curse, just like a stray
You feed it once and now it stays
How it stays
The next weeks were terrible. They caught Zak, fleeing in our car. He still had her blood staining his shirt. My father held me responsible, and I was. I knew all about Zak. I remember. Once, at school, he told me how a girl from his old class wouldn’t put out, so he took it. And I never said anything.
My parents, especially my father, were the ones who really took it out on me. I thought I was hard on myself, but my father… He always loved Trixie as his favorite. He held her so near and dear, he had hopes she would pursue the word of God, just as him. He prayed every night for the day she got the call. He blamed me that she never would.
I was locked inside of a closet for her funeral. They didn’t want me there. They said I was just as much responcible as the murderer who cut her up. I tried to run away from home, so many times, but I was caught, and returned. That’s when the beatings started. Almost every night, that man would lay into me.”
I look at her, her eyes were welling up with tears.
“That’s terrible Kurt. My God.”
I did not even realized that I was slumped back on the couch, rocking myself back and forth, crying, sobbing, weeping, like that weak willed little teenager. Kat steps up from her couch, and approached me. She wraps her arms around me.
“I want to wake up, but I can’t. And now… I see her. She was there, at the mall, in the hotel room, in the car with Wayne. She was there each time. That bloody, fractured unrecognizable face, I can’t get it out.”
She squeezes me tighter.
“Kurt, you just need to let go. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was. It has all been my fault. It is always my fault! Where we are at, where my life is, my drinking, my career stalling, all of it is MY FAULT!”
She holds me there, all night, and all morning. I cried, and poured everything into her.
<***>
I am not a happy person right now. I am sick of all the drama. But, it is time. Time to clear this out of my head, the memories that haunted me all of these years, break free of my stigma, break free of myself.
I have aired my grievances in being in the tag division, but I have no recourse, no option, but to fight, and fight hard.
Fight! So that two cocky young pricks that were given the opportunity of a lifetime and spat it back in our face don’t reap the rewards of their ill begotten actions. Chemical Reaction, you ingrates. Do you think that when we step in between those ropes, we are going to lay down for you? I was hoping that we could have made this a clean friendly competition, but you went and made things personal.
Fight! So that a washed up indy wrestler and his potential gay brother do not claim a prize they have never won. Shawn, I understand that you want to go out in a blaze of glory. I understand, you are looking at your life, and saying, “I haven’t accomplished anything. My knee is blown, and I just want to say, I WAS CHAMPION.” But you won’t be. Plain and simple.
Fight! So that two men who have fallen prey to their demons, or embraced them, will not win the reward they so desperately seek for their unspeakable actions. I cannot allow a rapist and a man who attempts murder by rabies to become champions of this illustrious federation. Be careful bioys, because one of these days, the fuzz will find you, and then we don’t have to worry about you anymore.
Fight! For a friend. A weary friend, a friend who has supported me since the day I met him, and I was too blind to see it. If we… if I fail, his spirit may never recover. After all those two monsters have put him through, especially the hobo, I cannot fall short of my goal, even if my heart is not totally in it.
Fight! I have made my decision. I have drawn my line in the sand. I will not be subject to my demons any longer. I will not lay down with them, I will not hide, I will not be destroyed.
I WILL FIGHT!
I’ll tear me open, make you gone
No longer will you hurt anyone
And the fear still shapes me
So hold me, Until it sleeps.
[/color][/center]No longer will you hurt anyone
And the fear still shapes me
So hold me, Until it sleeps.
