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Writing Practice

April 3, 2014

This is a little dark, but for forever, I’ve been trying to figure out what the mentally ill have to go through when they commit a dark act, so I can write about it accurately and possible defend them. This is my guess, but it could use improvement.

Brutal offenders of the moral code may be innocent, whispering harsh victimized chants under their breaths, dicing through their heads without censor, kneading their hands upon the truth, blaming their accusers with wicked, sharp assault. The unfortunate mourn their lost energy, lost time, lost and forever stolen reputations that have been stolen from their diminishing fates and ties to the beloved. As a group they are better traveled.

Seeking redemption among their dreams, they’ll escape narrow isles, darting over milestones, panic filling them until a single brush turns their cheeks to the dark abyss that haunts and beckons frequent visitation.

Dreaded temptation breaks the mind, shattering it into a fixated block of ice, broken on the inside, however unwilling to shake and crumble, and release them from madness, personally implied to bellowing freedoms; loose, fluid, open air that would normally meet them at the end instead of stagnating in stuffy caves which one lays sickly within and coughs dust and chalk.

The illness brings a gift, a honest proposal, a modest gift from an enchanting source. The actuality, however, is that temptation plays foul with hope. At the end, however, dismay brings accusations which sink the heart to accept their stance in their earned shroud of terror.

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