November | The Endless Forest

November
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11-1
What you see, is your own open door. Your own sanctuary. Your own lie. Or secret or what ever you want to call it.

What you see, is your last chance, your last breath, your last day to stand up and face the music. Hear the encore, and take your bow. It will be your day, it will be your last. Will your story be told on, like the trees in May and June. Or will they wither and fall....in November.... Will your picture be in the history books, but no one knows your name? Just another picture in the book, another child, or adult, or senior. Remembered, like the trees in May in June, and forgotten in November...

11-8
Your trees have withered right in front of my face. Your strudy will to hang on when the weather was tough must have disintigrated because when

you came back to me all that was left was your remains. I was trying to save you from this weather but I can't always be out there to stand with you in the weather. It's too cold outside, and I must have been too seelfish to keep you alive. I'm sorry, but theres other trees out there. Your one tree. One tree in this huge forest.

11-11
Rain clouds flutter out side and comfort each other by sharing tears. They fall on to my house with the soothing tap. The music played softly and I went to go check up on you.

You layed in you box wings spread, but you looked cold. I covered you up with a blue towel, and left you too your rest. The tears of rain clouds were like drugs, the burned and tapped in my head keeping me from knowing what happened when I was asleep. I slept, I awoke. I checked on you, I picked you up. Your wings spread, your necked snapped....I held you higher, the cloth was around you, and you looked like christ himself...

11-18
There are too many people here, but they don't see me. And when they do see me they say I'm caught in my own web. I'm struggling to breath.

Words shoved down my throat. They scratch my thoughts out of my head and burn. Fire runs through my veins and victims lay upon my feet. I rule this playground called life. I will shake the earth, and pound the ground. For I have seen the dark side of things and I know what they do. They say I'm niave, they say too much. And if they say it again I'll shove my pain, my fire, my greif, down there truely arrogant throats!

11-30
Tattoo. What better than a tattoo? Blanketing you, showing you and the whole world your soul. What you have seen and others haven't

. I'm not an idiot I know it stays. Even if I used soap and water, chances are it would never go away. It wall stay where it is, until my skin runs dead and dry. I will wither and the ink shall stay. Inked in forever, into my blood.

blankting me, and showing the whole world what I've seen and I'm leaving November for good...

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Tis a story again! Each date is someone elses little tid bit story
of what they feel, and what is happeing to them, in the month of November,
on that day. I know some stories may not make sense, you may have to
read the twice to get it -slapped-. But...um ...yeah...more random writting :3

I uber love November and I don't know why? lol : )