May 10, 2010 - 4:29am — Sonata
But boredom boredom boredom
"things, oh everything, it's just so...tiring, life is...boring, to say the least unfortunately some of us are not...blessed, with the means to end our own lives, but you pretty little deers, excuse me, Dears, most certainly do.
But you don't...
if I could, I would. but...I cannot, sad sad truth, how you make fools of us all"
He tilts his head to the side.
And those eyes...
those glorious, magnificent, beautiful eyes of ever changing colours and dancing aroura, slowly turn upon you.
They are pink.
and red.
and blue
and sea
and sky
and love
and loss
and Loneliness
and life
and death.
"or maybe I wouldn't, though I've tried for...laughs...a few times, fun to take a dive off a nice bridge and scare the pretty little people around you...me"
His tail twitches, ears standing erect, then down.
The oddest urge to make him...do something washes over you.
But no matter how much you lower your antlers.
scream and yell and rear.
he does not seem to care.
He stays, or walks off, or maybe even trots off and though he may fight back if you follow it's clear that he is merely doing it to amuse your whims because it's clear he;
still
doesn't
care.
maybe it makes you more angry
maybe you don't care either
maybe it makes you sad.
May as well not waste that time caring.
he doesn't.
