Alone in the room, with no one to hear his mind screaming, he played the guitar that sat in his hands and played it well. His hands quickly moving and his ears picking up every vibration that would go with the last one. His eyes watched the door, in case if someone were to find him playing his guitar in shorts and with his muscles that were still there from his old sports team. There were scars on his body from fights he'd gotten in to with his brothers and his friends when they got mad at each other. Every day he did this, and no one still seemed to figure out why he was so lonely.
 m.ikstar · Mon Feb 05, 2007 @ 11:05pm · 0 Comments |
