The fake truth.

The fake truth.

A Story by Jurikosan

I sit and lie wide awake in bed. Listening to the footsteps of a man that doesn't exist. I Hear this every night. I know it's fake. Yet something goes missing every night. But I will not admit to my wrongness. There is no one in my house. Too bad I didn't believe. I lie awake in bed again.  My door opens. I hear the boots on my wood floor. I don't look. I pull the covers over my head and turn the other way. Thinking of my psychopathic mind. And that I'm just producing sounds and images straight from my head. I turn back around and pull off the covers to be brave. Yet I still get the knife in my throat. And there he is. Standing. Real as a the sky. I don't scream. I don't beg for mercy. I don't say anything but "Why?"  And I hear one word "Hate" And immediately drop dead.

© 2010 Jurikosan


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Posted 14 Years Ago



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Added on August 18, 2010
Last Updated on August 18, 2010

Author

Jurikosan
Jurikosan

Little Rock, AR



About
Hey! My name is Hayley, but you can call me Jurisan! I'm nearly fifteen years old. I wrote most of these poems when I was eleven, and I can't really write anymore... I swear I got dumber over the year.. more..

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