Wanting
Paint My Mind
"Kid."
"Hey kid."
It's a strange voice. It's a nice voice. it's relaxing, but it's strange. Almost like it's caring. Strange.
"Kid. Get up."
I can't. I can't even remember what happened.
The smell of alcahole lingered in my nostrils. I felt a strong grasp on my shoulder. Nothing but my own clothes hung on my body.
Images slowly came back. He was drunk. He slurred his words together, practically forming his own language. A hideous language.
My eyes fluttered open. I was blind? No. All the colors just mixed. It was abstract art. Only this painting had nothing beautiful to offer.
"Hey kid."
It's a strange voice. It's a nice voice. it's relaxing, but it's strange. Almost like it's caring. Strange.
"Kid. Get up."
I can't. I can't even remember what happened.
The smell of alcahole lingered in my nostrils. I felt a strong grasp on my shoulder. Nothing but my own clothes hung on my body.
Images slowly came back. He was drunk. He slurred his words together, practically forming his own language. A hideous language.
My eyes fluttered open. I was blind? No. All the colors just mixed. It was abstract art. Only this painting had nothing beautiful to offer.