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sarah's fire


Sarahs fire.
Sarahs fire
Is flaming inside of me
Oh, sweet burning fire
Let me burn and let me be.
The fire of Sarah
Burns me up with grace
Sarahs fire, fire of Sarah
Scars my white, white face.
Its warmth, its softness
Makes my tears flame on my cheek.
Your tenderness, your sweetness.
Its Sarahs fire
Sarahs fire
Makes me alive.
Sarahs fire
Sarah
Can I be
Your fire.
Sometimes it gets too cold. Sometimes it gets too cold to breathe. The frost lies in your lounges and slowly tries to take away the little hope you have inside of you. This little spark that we so often refer to, thinking that we know it when we don't. Most of us know nothing of hope…not of real hope that is. Real hope isnt optimism, it's desperation. Real hope isn't about hoping you'll pass a petty test or meeting the object of your greatest desire. That isn't hope at all. The only true hope that there is, is the coldest desperation of being close to loosing someone that means more than the world to you. Hoping you'll survive a disaster that is completely out of human control. Hope is to surrender you to the power no one knows but have all made a blurred image of in their own mentally twisted modern world.
I've had that hope…that desperation. Ofcourse it was all about a guy. I don't really remember his name, I chose to forget it because remembering it, being able to whisper it in the worst of pains is a torture in itself. Still, whenever the name of “Gabriel” comes to my mind it's torn apart by the painful memories that follow it.
I wish I could hate that name but I can't. No matter how hard I try. You probably want the whole story. I know I wish I had it.
Its grown a little cold.
My fingers are frozen through
Yet, I am warm.
My sweater soaked in cold blood.
My hearts bleeding
Lack of trust,
Lack of human touch.
My worlds frozen.
But I burn
My hearts bleeding
I cant stop it
Not even the frost Ive created can stop it.
Nothing, nothing.
Its so cold
I can see my crystal breath.
I hurt.
I freeze.
I burn.
Kill me,
Please kill me.
Then I cant be torn,
Between my frozen world
And my warm bleeding heart.
Kill me so Ill never be loved.
Cold, so damn cold. Ofcourse it's cold, Im wearing a bloody short coat and a short dress and it's fucking snowing. The clouds are covering my sight from the late afternoon sky, it hasn't grown dark yet, it will soon and then the psychos will get out but hey, I am already out. My unnaturally pale complexion takes on a ghostly form in the approaching shadows and short black messy hair makes me look like a monster of some sort. A mad WOman. It's too cold to breathe and I feel how the life is slowly drained from my fingers. I look at them and I wish I could throw them away because I hate them. Once I could draw with them but red scars are my witnesses that I no longer can.
Gabriel I hate you…but I love you too. You understood, you were the only one ever to understand the way I functioned in my parallel universe. You never were like the others, you never thought the trouble started when I got burned, when my gift was “taken” away from me along with my already highly disturbed spirit. I can remember the way you used to hold my hands and for a while Id believe that I could draw again. That's why I hate you and I hate myself for telling you how things had been before I lost my touch to paper.
I hate myself for telling you because you understood and showed me sympathy. I told you. I can remember.
Coldest hands of the world are locked
Around my heart, freezing it dead.
Yet, it bleeds blue frost rose blood.
The hands of bitter memories
Keep searching for me.
Slowly the isolation breaks my dying.
Softly your hands kill me crying
You are my salvation, reminder of the past.
You are here and you and I will last.
You are me
I am you.
The memory of myself
We sat on my bed in silence. It was so thick and gentle, that comfortable silence. My soul felt calm, no one was at home. Just you and me sitting on my bed. You could have gotten me to do something, I think that you knew that by that time Id have done anything for you. But you had to be an angel from hell and torture me. The torture cam in the form of a question. In your mild mature voice youd asked.
“Wanna tell me what happened to your hands?”
My legs were crossed and I sat slouched in my mental isolated fear, facing you. I couldnt think of loosing the sight of your pretty blood red eyes. The question disturbed me, but you already knew that.
“Why dyou wanna know?”
I jumped right back to defense and hide behind a mask of cold ice.
“ It happened to you”
“No shit, it happened, its over, forgotten”
“Is doesnt look like youve forgotten about it”
A sigh had slipped from my lips and slowly I breathed in and out. My heart burned like the fire that burned my home down. I wanted to tell him but I hated that fire. I hate all fires. Yet, my tongue was disobedient to my mind and started to speak, shivering, insecure, tasting fear again and again. More with every breathing second.
“I just..was caught in a the fire when our house burned down”
“Why did the fire break out?”
A silence drifted in the air. It was not the same nice, thick silence that had possessed the air only minutes ago. It was merciless and demanding.
“Mom forgot her cigarettes by the curtains..it was in the living room.. the couch I was sleeping on it”
“Didnt you wake up?”
“I did wake up, when the fire had broken out”
Why had I said that single sentence? I dont know and I dont want to know. If I found out I just might repeat the same mistake again…Right now thats the last thing I need.
Still I remember the strange expression of concern and care his face had showed me when I told you those words. It was as if there was some importance to my existence.There isnt.
“ Didnt you save yourself?”
“No”
I looked at my hands and felt disgusted. They were scarred for life and I didnt have the means to fix things.
I could never fix anything, still cant.
“You meant to stay in the housemeant to die?”
My throat was burning as well and my eyes were screaming for tears. Dont weep now you fuckin ass my mind screamed in desperation
A laughing, screaming mask of insanity
Faces the mirror
But behind it
The owner cries bitter tears, hiding the tears
Keeping my tears under my mask.
I need you to see me
For who I am,
Need you to wipe away the tears…Unmasked.
Rip me apart if youll need to
Please,
Take me apart and destroy me.
Doesnt matter what youll do
Hurt me. Damage me for good,
Even kill me
Just unmask me.
Make me be the one I really am
“No, I just didnt want to draw anymore”
The words came out in tearless sobs. Why was I being so fragile, this wasnt me. Why was he so damn curious? His hands lay gently over mine, in compassion, nothing more and it made me hate myself but for a second I felt like I could draw Mona Lisa.
“Why did you do thatyoure pictures were beautiful”
The fire turned into an explosion.
Ah, GO AND FUCK YOURSELF YOU FUCKIN ASS!“
Theres an angel outside of my window.
I wont let him in.
He can freeze outside in the snow
He came too late.
I remember, I called him
But he didnt come then.
When I was bleeding he left me alone
And came when my scars had sunk into my heart.
Hes an angel
And angels dont wanna see pain.
I dont want an angel
In my head.
He wont console me when I need.
Because I wont allow him
To reach my soul
Hell only go so deep like all other men.
I thought that I had driven you away but you came back. You were like a bloody yo-yo with a will of its own and I hate jojos, I hate pink too. I never told you though, why I burned my hands and left them semi-crippled.
You see, all I had when I was a kid were my hands and my only way of expression myself were through my pictures. Bit by bit it was all I was and became pictures and pencil sketches. Everyone was making plans for me and I didnt have a say in even as much as one of them. Things at home were bad. Dad always criticizing me and never giving me the understanding I so desperately craved. I would have given up drawing just to be understood. I tried that, it didnt work. Mom, dear bitch, never listened to anyone and always made herself not a but THE victim of everything, specially dads everlasting and intolerable criticism. They always fought and ”disagreed“, they never agreed on one fucking thing. Im surprised they agreed on a name for me.
Most people think that the family was OK, but we werent then and we arent now. Theyre just as fucked up as me and I was just as fucked up then as I am now. I just hid it better back then, hid it behind my drawings. Now I break glass jars by throwing them into the floor, shout at my parents, stay out late, get into fights, throw every thing of my desk, then the dinner table. Or maybe just the TV and the computer and my stereo after throwing my parent's stereo out the window. Everythings fucked up. Now, in the cold present, people think that my parents are the victims of a rebellious and an insane teenage daughter. Theyre not, Im their bloody victim, and its their fault that Im this screwed up. Im the victim and with my pained, violent heart I hate knowing that.
Im not the girl in the moon
Im not a statue of calmity
I have violence
Its boiling, burning me up from inside
Burning impassionatly
I dont want to be your girl in the moon.
Dont you understand?
You dont have the right to create a role for me
Can you not understand?
My right to let out my rage.
I might be hanging in the moon
But Im not
Im not
Your girl in the moon
I might have her mask
But Im not her
I dont want to be,
Her.
(fuck you)
Im not your girl in the moon.
I looked into the mirror and looked into my eyes. In the light of my eyes I saw a shadowThe fan turning pointlessly to cool down the summer heat and my anger that wasnt there. The chill inside of me could have been enough to cool down the entire earth. I felt so cold, and you, felt so warm. You became my warmth, my addiction. For my ignorant reasons I allowed you slowly to warm up my soul. Id been just fine frozen through, that way Id blocked out the pain. You warmed my soul up the same way as you warmed up my feet as they were cold under Our blanket, together. In my frozen still memory I remember when you gave me this blanket, this cursed fondly remembered memory.
Birthdays happen once a year but that year mine occurred twice. You knocked on the doors of my house, like an idiot I opened the doors. I should have known better than to let you in in the first place.
Rather I should have run away, screaming my heart out so Id freeze to death under the warm sun of hot summer. But NO, my stupid hands opened and my ignorant arms pulled. There you were, standing in the shadows, shielding away from the sun. You should have let it into your soul, nameless once loved.
Your smile was my sun that day, a fake sun it was, my stupid heart.
”Can I come in?“
I heard you say that between the words of my parents fighting. Overly on normal ecstasy of the soul I opened the doors to my heart.
”Sure, what you got there?“
I said ignorantly child like when I saw that big package you had and werent trying to hide. A wide smile of simple happiness captivated your face.
”Your birthday present“
”Its not my birthday“
”I dont care, Ive missed 18 of your birthdays already. I gotta make up for them“
He handed me the package. Pretty, pretty blood roses with thorns. How I adored them, stabbing into my flesh.
”A blanket?“
It was black, covered in rosed thorns and I could feel them cutting my skin. Kill me slowly and make me bleed. I saw my blood drip on the floor. I felt so desperate and I felt so calm.
”Our blanket“
”Our blanket?“
Was that what he wanted, was that all the bastard wanted. Fuck, just like other guys. He must have seen the anger inside of me, burning my heart up.
”Im not trying to get you to bed, you know, I dont mean it like that. I mean I dont want towell I do but II just want something to be oursto tell you how I feel about you and you make me feel warm. I wanted you to feel the same“
He was raving but all I could think of was the blanket. It would be warm and cozy, keeping a solitary human being soulfed in the emotional cold. It would be lonely, to be alone. So I chose no to be alone. I chose to escape the pain in the most ignorant and childish way Ive come to know. I led you into my room. So stupid of me…just like me
If I could whisper what I wanted
I would have done so long ago.
But Im a little girl,
Holding her hands over her face.
Fear, shes so afraid.
She cant.
I cant say what I want.
Just want to feel
So good.
How can I
Feel good
If I dont trust
That little girl,
Coward in the corner.
Just afraid
Im just so afraid.
It wont let me go.
Simply wont allow me
To dare
To enjoy.
If I could only whisper what I wanted
And do it.
Wasnt I stupid? To let you within the barriers of my blooded mask. I am a bitch. I used to be a superficial bitch but now I am a real bitch. Its not how my parents were gonna complainit was a long time since Id started to piss them off by bringing home strangers and they reminded strangers for the rest of all of my life. I can barely remember their faces. I told you that, you knew that but somehow you forgave me. An angel with a demon soul forgave me. The atheist forgave me for being a bitch and a slut
Cant you be angry?
Cant you hate me?
I hate myself
That isnt enough
I need you to hate me
Loathe me
Then Ill have a reason
to hate me
You did other strange things, stranger even. So painfully I remember and can not forget all those things we did.
When you were gonna drive me home but we ended up driving for the entire night, listening to each other talk, the radio or the humming sound of the engine. The times when you showed up in the middle of the night, waking me up from sleep, making me answer the doors just to say goodnight and hug me or bring me roses. You had this fascination with red throne roses, nearly obsessed. You were probably the only boy who I knew who kept dried roses in his room. Also, I remember when you and your words. I hate to admit it but I loved your words, they were the kind of words a person could eat up, delicious words. But I hate, I hate how understanding and strange you were at times, but I loved the way you looked. Long white hair, pale skin, always staying in the shadows with your sunglasses. You hated the sun, but you said that I was the only sun you could stand. Does that mean that you hated me? I hate to admit anything when it comes to you. I hate to admit that I loved you little albino boy, taller than me, taller than ever me. I suppose that thats why you fell so harshly down.
You reached the stars all too early and all to high, then you came falling down slowly and painfully as the memory of your mothers cancer slowly vexed you. Like her tumors had killed her slowly, so did yours.
But you had no right to forget about me and my life and my love and my desperation and my need.
I might be selfish as hell but I tell you that no-one has the right to rip the heart out of a wounded animal and try to stuff it into the stars.
You came into my life and you gave me peace. I was the little girl in the hospital you saw everyday staring bitterly out into a world Id never belong to. You saw me when you came to visit your mother, you never spoke to me though. Not until you visited your mother for the last time. You were an angel, nameless memory.
I fell in love with you and you went away, you, the only sane thing in my life, left me half the way to happiness, you left me to fall even deeper than Id been before.
Day by day you got sicker, coughed up the blood of the soul and were in pain. You never told me you fucking bastard.
It gets colder still. I cried on your shoulder so often, ending up being comforted by you after an attack of rage.
My heart was colored by you and your eyes. In my head your picture dwelled and made me smile. I never saw your tears on my shoulder. You bloody ass.
Let me cry
Let me cry in your heart
Hear you whisper
Hear your tears fall
As you mourn your loss and pain
I need to see you cry
See you in pain
Only then will I love you.
You could have told me, you know. You picked me up from school almost every single day for over a year.
But no, you had to carry my burdens and not to allow me to try out the weight of yours. More cruelly, you had drawn me so close to you and made me so happy, just to crush my heart into thousand pathetic pieces. You always seemed so happy, but you never were, were you? Do you know I was the one finding you, I was the one that first read your letter? I was the one that clung so desperately to that hope I got only to know for few seconds.
It couldnt be you, lying in the blood-covered bed, maybe you were still alive, just had to be alive.
But you werent and neither was I.
Hey, you there,
Got a moment before you end your life?
Im just thinking bout those who love you,
Or do you think that no-one does?
Little Big Boy of the cold street of human life,
Cant you figure out a better way to get out?
Youll just hurt those who care.
You might be blind to them, but they,
They are there.
Little Big boy bleeding all alone.
I know I came too late.
Years too late.
But your souls still here.
And I want you to know.
You had no right to leave me.
Its so cold that its almost burning. I wish I could lock these emotions away in my pictures like I used to but you know I cant, you figured that one out.
Your funeral was pretty, but you know that already. I even gave a pretty little speech that left most of the guests in a state of shock, mostly my parents. I think that the part where I told them to go to hell shocked them the mostamong other things. The priest turned pale as I spoke, damn perverted cross dresser. After that I ran out. Now you can see me walking in the snow, Ive been walking for hours now and my black eyemake-up has colored my cheeks black and washed some of my black lipstick off. But theyre dried now and I wish that the memory of you were as dry and lifeless.
It isnt that long now, actually its quite short.
I stop and look around in the darkness, its growing darker and darker but it cant be compared to the darkness in my mind. The river is strangely comforting, the sound soothing and enchanting. The water is freezing cold but bit by bit my body grows even number than my soul. Its so cold, too cold to breathe.
And my hair is soaked in Shannons frosty water and ice cold heart
Black short dress
Black short trench-coat
Eagerly drinking the water
To bring me down, down.
I am erasing you, I can not stand the memory of you
Anymore.
Then, for a while
I have that hopeagain.
Desperate survival fight vs. the uncontrollable.
But then, then, then
Its OK
I hear your voice mildly whisper my name.
”Sarah"
I feel your warm arms, theyre not fiery like the hated flame, but gentle, loving. I stay in those arms until the blackness makes my mind to be nothing more than a desert of emptiness.
GabrielI dont want to miss you anymore.
Epilog
A world covered in blue tones and black. Even the whitest snow carries this disturbing tone of blue, the sky changes like everything, night and day pass but its always the same night and day, thought its unknown to me.
Still, the suns light is blue; the sun is of this pale blue crying color. Im not cold and my wet hair doesnt freeze but I know that its cold. I see it in the breaths of the living birds, the crows that come here again and again bringing the dead to this miserable place. My feet are bare, blue from the river I killed myself in all those 100.000 seconds ago. No time. No color. No sensation. Nothing. This world, this cold world that yet keeps me as neutral as when I sank into the ice water. Im by my house, I was hoping it would also have that lifeless feeling to it but the memory is so much alive, more than before. I suppose that you never know the pain of your life until its over. Well, mines over and I say that it still hurts like a bitch. But thats me, the bitch.
I cant wait, cant go there but I cant stay away. There is something that is making me go there. Passing through time as my feet make footsteps into the constantly newly fallen snow.
The steps to my house, the place of my heart,
I see someone sitting on the porch. It looks like hes been waiting for a while, days, weeks, months, and eternity without sunshine. His face, looking up. Its blue and pale, just like the rest of this world.
But his eyes, his eyes, his red, red eyes, the only color in this worldthe only color left in my heart, in my world.
A face, your face, painted in emotions, regret, compassion, understanding, care, love?
I suppose Im home.
At last.