Story from the heart. Part 2

Yes, i have no will-power at all. I re-assembled my computer. Go ahead and laugh all you want,you bastards.

Yes, the 'Little Boy' story is an original production by yours truly. I thank all the good people for the positive comments, and i will continue the story, for i am quite fond of it.


All rights reserved.
No part of this publication,'Little Boy' may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,or transmitted, in any form or by any means,without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, or else the author will be damn pissed and will fuck you up.

thank you.



'Little Boy. Part II'

Little Boy feels detached.
From everything.

He treads carelessly
down that path.
The noises that deafens all others,
he hears them not.
He is,after all, detached.

Not only is he oblivious to his surroundings,
he does not even bother
with his physical well-being anymore.
Little Boy no longer
feels.....anything at all.
His heart...
locked deep within his soul,
or it might've been lost,
he knows not.
All he tastes now
is the bitter feeling
of loss.

He tries to remember
the Old Man's words.
He recalls them, vaguely.
But all he hears now
is the screeching regret that
ravages every fibre of
his broken body.

'That's all i am now,'
Little Boy thought.
'A broken body
with a loss cause.'

He looks down at his own feet,
mildly surprised to see
his marvelous dancing feet
are so laden with cuts and wounds,
obtained by walking that jagged road.
He does a little jig,
but stops abruptly.

Pain.
White hot pain.
Memories of old,
hits him hard in the guts,
racks him with undiluted guilt.
Little Boy drops,
tears of frustration,
wells up.

How long Little Boy
sat there,
he can't even fanthom.
All he knows
that it is too late
to turn back.
Turn back to the days of joy and dancing.
There is only one way to take.
On.

On, to that deep abyss.