L
lonnie,
Guest
I know of a pedophile who resides in the eastside of New York. He has a dark secret but is still able to work. To function. He stutters on his conjunctions. The only thing he wishes for is a name, something to provide him with some form of fame. But it kills him deeply when he lays in bed every night, and realizes he lost the fight. Against himself. He doesn't know if there is a god but he knows there is something. Because hope is not given but it is something you bring. He makes sure before he sleeps every night that he is forgiven. He prays to whatever lord above to relieve him of his sin. He prays until his knees, until his knees bleed so much they plant their own seed. And it grows over the years, while it feeds off of his tears. And it grows. The branches of his blood tree is not something you can see though it stands 7 feet tall. He is the only one feeling the weight of it all. And as his blood tree grows upon him the faces collide. Faces of the broken, the weak, and the ones too scared to hide. And as these faces grow upon his tree, they cry. Millions of tears drop from each of the thousands of their eyes. These tears that fall from this pedophile's blood tree, they create a sea. And he prays to the lord he cannot see, "Whatever lord above, please forgive me." He then pleads, "Make this sea sway, and let this peaceful blue liquid take me away." And in that moment, the roots began to unfold. Distinguishing the tree's mold. And as it fell to the floor, it became gold. I know of a man who lives in New York. He is too rich to ever need to work. To function. He no longer stutters on his conjunctions.