April Showers, Bring May Flowers, At Least That’s What My Mother Told Me
I’m going to tell you a secret. I don’t care who wants to hear it, and whether someone tells it. I just want someone to know. If you turn away now, you won't have to breathe in the darkness that taints my blood as it seeps out, the taste of darkness pounding from my chest, a beat of much death. I wish I’d never being born. I wish I knew how to deal with my problems. I wish I could of being born into a family that loved me. I can't tell you where I live. I can't trust anyone. I never have. But I'll tell you this. Run as far as you can. This city is long dead. A ghost town, where the spirits who are no more linger, unknown to the rest of civilization. Never come looking for my house. You'll be forgotten too. This town was named Florere. It literally means 'May Flower' in Latin. Made sense. That was the flower that was never in short supply. The hills were dotted with may flowers of all different colors, speckling the grass. Whenever someone died, their grave would be coated with may flowers almost completely. You could say it was regarded as a respectful gesture. I never understood why there was so little variety in flower choices. But I did love the may flowers. I know it’s not possible anymore, but when I was young I always thought about lying beneath the cool, moist earth, the earth above littered with beautiful petals, far above my lifeless, cold body. It might creep you out that that was my only ambition. But I knew little of what else I could have. I’d had enough funerals in my life to attend. Everything had been wrong even before me. It’s a family thing. It’s not a very nice family thing. When I looked around, I saw young children, so happy and ignorant, slurping at ice cream and running around the streets laughing. I envied those children with all my heart. Their happiness was my hatred, the way they sneered at me without even knowing why they were meant to hate me. And in turn, I looked down on them. I guess it was wrong. I didn’t care. I guess there’s no point, me trying to avoid it though. If you’re patient, sit down and I’ll tell you everything. You mayn’t believe anything I say. The song I’m about to play is my song. A song of death, life and price. If you follow me into the darkness, it will be for your ears. But I’ll give you one warning. Those who do not believe me, step back into the light. The shadows do not welcome trespassers.
I’m going to tell you a secret. I don’t care who wants to hear it, and whether someone tells it. I just want someone to know. If you turn away now, you won't have to breathe in the darkness that taints my blood as it seeps out, the taste of darkness pounding from my chest, a beat of much death. I wish I’d never being born. I wish I knew how to deal with my problems. I wish I could of being born into a family that loved me. I can't tell you where I live. I can't trust anyone. I never have. But I'll tell you this. Run as far as you can. This city is long dead. A ghost town, where the spirits who are no more linger, unknown to the rest of civilization. Never come looking for my house. You'll be forgotten too. This town was named Florere. It literally means 'May Flower' in Latin. Made sense. That was the flower that was never in short supply. The hills were dotted with may flowers of all different colors, speckling the grass. Whenever someone died, their grave would be coated with may flowers almost completely. You could say it was regarded as a respectful gesture. I never understood why there was so little variety in flower choices. But I did love the may flowers. I know it’s not possible anymore, but when I was young I always thought about lying beneath the cool, moist earth, the earth above littered with beautiful petals, far above my lifeless, cold body. It might creep you out that that was my only ambition. But I knew little of what else I could have. I’d had enough funerals in my life to attend. Everything had been wrong even before me. It’s a family thing. It’s not a very nice family thing. When I looked around, I saw young children, so happy and ignorant, slurping at ice cream and running around the streets laughing. I envied those children with all my heart. Their happiness was my hatred, the way they sneered at me without even knowing why they were meant to hate me. And in turn, I looked down on them. I guess it was wrong. I didn’t care. I guess there’s no point, me trying to avoid it though. If you’re patient, sit down and I’ll tell you everything. You mayn’t believe anything I say. The song I’m about to play is my song. A song of death, life and price. If you follow me into the darkness, it will be for your ears. But I’ll give you one warning. Those who do not believe me, step back into the light. The shadows do not welcome trespassers.