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![Heart of Stone [oneshot.] Empty](https://2img.net/i/empty.gif)
Little silence, whispering noises. He falls into his safe haven, the little blanket of red that trickled from his wrist. The little cut goes deeper, the little red drink dripping onto the white snow skin. Staining, staining like wine on the empty heart. Heart of Stone, he withers in absolute pain, Heart of Stone.
He lifts his sharp weapon, and digs a little deeper. Twisting agony, a riddle unsolved. A cruel laugh escapes his pale pink lips, that do not have loving words on them anymore. Heart of Stone, he withers in absolute pain, Heart of Stone.
He cries herself to sleep, and he just wants the world to end.
He lifts his sharp weapon, and digs a little deeper. Not good enough, he thinks to himself, not good enough. A sad smile rests upon his sad, sad lips. He feels pain, shooting up her arm. He laddens in the fear of it, he smiles of the pain, and the laugh, the shaky laugh that follows. He's stained his arm, and he moves to her neck. Heart of Stone, he withers in absolute pain, Heart of Stone.
He feels it cut a little deeper, a little under his windpipes, a little above his chest. He doesn't cut deep enough, and he hears them coming home. He knows that they don't need him anymore. They are happy; They aren't troubled. They aren't different. He is still in her white room, with those black accents, and when they call her for dinner. He doesn't come up. He leaves a few notes, and they all say.
Heart of Stone.
Her room is now accented with red.
They come downstairs, and see. They see the blood that flows from his smooth neck, his throat. One falls with shaking knees. The other finds the notes. He reads them, and he's crying.
He didn't want his brother, his fucking brother, to be a heart of stone. He wanted to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay. He just, he just didn't know anymore.
The one crying wants to believe in a God, but after all he's been through can't find that happiness again. He holds the bleeding boy, and holds his hand, and is squeezing his hand. And he is crying, and the blood mixes in with the tears, and the tears mix in with the blood that pours from his Heart of Stone.
Heart of Stone, he's now dead in his father's arms, Heart of Stone.
Before he killed himself, he wrote the notes that broke him to the very core. He searched within him, pst the bleeding arm, past the broken soul, and into the boy who was fighting for his chance to live. He doesn't write to his father, other than the fact that he loves him, and he will always want to hold his hand. He writes to his best friend, to never look back, and to always look forward. He signs his name Heart of Stone. He writes to his enemies, for making him dead, and for making him stronger, but burning him to the ground. He writes to his love, to tell him the only reason he is this is because he will never be loved the way he wants to be loved. He will always be a wall, a Heart of Stone.
And, he writes to himself, the longest of them all. He wants them to know everything. Even if it hurts, they should know.
Should know what caused this Heart of Stone.
So, this is the end. Right? Right? You could say it is. It's the end of what never happened, what never could become. It's the end of the passing faze, the passing trend. It's the reign of terror, the start of tears. It's the way it should be. It's the way it was meant to be. It's just the way things happen when you are like me. You don't need enemies, though they come with the package.
You need listener, and friends. You don't need someone to discract you. Sometimes, you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to listen to. Someone who won't tell you the things you want to hear, but the things you need to hear. It's just the matter of life; Just because I'm different, doesn't make it any more so that I need a friend. It just makes it harder to find one.
And my Heart of Stone, is still a heart of stone. It's covered in lied, masked with tears, and hidden underneatht eh sadness I've had blowing up in me. It's killing me, and I'm carrying out it's deed.
It's a painless thing, it's a flash of white, and it's mine to carry.
It's just the way it's going to be.
It's just the way it should.
I now know why those other kids - those kids like me - killed themselves.
After you've been ridiculed, and teased, you have nothing to live, or love, for.
It's downhill. I'm not going to be succesfull. I'm still going to be here, twenty, thirty years from now. I'll live alone, be alone, and never have someone to love.
Never have, have I?
I bet your crying now. So am I. I'm sobbing, sobbing till I can't sob anymore.
I bet there are drips of blood on here. It's dripping from my arm.
Bet you didn't know, did you?
Never took the time to ask, did you?
It doesn't make the pain go away, if you are wondering.
It just makes more pain, and the you don't have to concentrate on the loneliness that builds up, and breaks you down in the end.
There is no gold medal; Just death.
Just sweet, painless whatever there is above.
Heaven. That's where I want to go.
Hell. That's where I'll burn like the faggot I am.
Faggot. Don't lie.
It's what I am. It's what I'll always be.
Another fag, waiting to burn in Hell.
-Heart of Stone
I haven't written such a sad thing in such a long time. I haven't, and I'm glad I knda wrote this. Yeah, it is really sad, and it is really depressing, but I love to write this kind of stuff. It makes you get inside the characters head a little bit. This is in honor of all the gay teens who have taken their lives in the past few weeks. May they rest in peace.
To all those who are thinking about suicide: Don't. It does get better. Look up the Trevor Project on Google, if you do need anyone to talk to.
-Madi
He lifts his sharp weapon, and digs a little deeper. Twisting agony, a riddle unsolved. A cruel laugh escapes his pale pink lips, that do not have loving words on them anymore. Heart of Stone, he withers in absolute pain, Heart of Stone.
He cries herself to sleep, and he just wants the world to end.
He lifts his sharp weapon, and digs a little deeper. Not good enough, he thinks to himself, not good enough. A sad smile rests upon his sad, sad lips. He feels pain, shooting up her arm. He laddens in the fear of it, he smiles of the pain, and the laugh, the shaky laugh that follows. He's stained his arm, and he moves to her neck. Heart of Stone, he withers in absolute pain, Heart of Stone.
He feels it cut a little deeper, a little under his windpipes, a little above his chest. He doesn't cut deep enough, and he hears them coming home. He knows that they don't need him anymore. They are happy; They aren't troubled. They aren't different. He is still in her white room, with those black accents, and when they call her for dinner. He doesn't come up. He leaves a few notes, and they all say.
Heart of Stone.
Her room is now accented with red.
They come downstairs, and see. They see the blood that flows from his smooth neck, his throat. One falls with shaking knees. The other finds the notes. He reads them, and he's crying.
He didn't want his brother, his fucking brother, to be a heart of stone. He wanted to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay. He just, he just didn't know anymore.
The one crying wants to believe in a God, but after all he's been through can't find that happiness again. He holds the bleeding boy, and holds his hand, and is squeezing his hand. And he is crying, and the blood mixes in with the tears, and the tears mix in with the blood that pours from his Heart of Stone.
Heart of Stone, he's now dead in his father's arms, Heart of Stone.
Before he killed himself, he wrote the notes that broke him to the very core. He searched within him, pst the bleeding arm, past the broken soul, and into the boy who was fighting for his chance to live. He doesn't write to his father, other than the fact that he loves him, and he will always want to hold his hand. He writes to his best friend, to never look back, and to always look forward. He signs his name Heart of Stone. He writes to his enemies, for making him dead, and for making him stronger, but burning him to the ground. He writes to his love, to tell him the only reason he is this is because he will never be loved the way he wants to be loved. He will always be a wall, a Heart of Stone.
And, he writes to himself, the longest of them all. He wants them to know everything. Even if it hurts, they should know.
Should know what caused this Heart of Stone.
So, this is the end. Right? Right? You could say it is. It's the end of what never happened, what never could become. It's the end of the passing faze, the passing trend. It's the reign of terror, the start of tears. It's the way it should be. It's the way it was meant to be. It's just the way things happen when you are like me. You don't need enemies, though they come with the package.
You need listener, and friends. You don't need someone to discract you. Sometimes, you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to listen to. Someone who won't tell you the things you want to hear, but the things you need to hear. It's just the matter of life; Just because I'm different, doesn't make it any more so that I need a friend. It just makes it harder to find one.
And my Heart of Stone, is still a heart of stone. It's covered in lied, masked with tears, and hidden underneatht eh sadness I've had blowing up in me. It's killing me, and I'm carrying out it's deed.
It's a painless thing, it's a flash of white, and it's mine to carry.
It's just the way it's going to be.
It's just the way it should.
I now know why those other kids - those kids like me - killed themselves.
After you've been ridiculed, and teased, you have nothing to live, or love, for.
It's downhill. I'm not going to be succesfull. I'm still going to be here, twenty, thirty years from now. I'll live alone, be alone, and never have someone to love.
Never have, have I?
I bet your crying now. So am I. I'm sobbing, sobbing till I can't sob anymore.
I bet there are drips of blood on here. It's dripping from my arm.
Bet you didn't know, did you?
Never took the time to ask, did you?
It doesn't make the pain go away, if you are wondering.
It just makes more pain, and the you don't have to concentrate on the loneliness that builds up, and breaks you down in the end.
There is no gold medal; Just death.
Just sweet, painless whatever there is above.
Heaven. That's where I want to go.
Hell. That's where I'll burn like the faggot I am.
Faggot. Don't lie.
It's what I am. It's what I'll always be.
Another fag, waiting to burn in Hell.
-Heart of Stone
I haven't written such a sad thing in such a long time. I haven't, and I'm glad I knda wrote this. Yeah, it is really sad, and it is really depressing, but I love to write this kind of stuff. It makes you get inside the characters head a little bit. This is in honor of all the gay teens who have taken their lives in the past few weeks. May they rest in peace.
To all those who are thinking about suicide: Don't. It does get better. Look up the Trevor Project on Google, if you do need anyone to talk to.
-Madi
