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“It is not too late... there is time still." I am dying. There are tears in my eyes. Please cradle my head in your hand. Let me look into the stars. Are they really in the sky? Or are they just in my mind because what is there I cannot see? The woman tilted her head, revealing a rim of bruising around a clean-tucked hole in her head. There was blood. Dry blood. This is more pain than a human heart can bear. Like fistfuls of fear, cries shoot from my eyes. There are tears running down my face. It is a salty, bitter taste. My wounds need care. I look up to my mom, but can think of nothing to say. I am dying. I need you. Embrace me. I am dying... "Shhhh...” — Milan Sime Martinic, Ironway: Watching Over Benjamin Hill -
It is not too late... there is time still."
I am dying.
There are tears in my eyes.
Please cradle my head in your hand.
Let me look into the stars.
Are they really in the sky?
Or are they just in my mind because what is there I cannot see?
The woman tilted her head, revealing a rim of bruising around a clean-tucked hole in her head. There was blood. Dry blood.
This is more pain than a human heart can bear.
Like fistfuls of fear, cries shoot from my eyes.
There are tears running down my face.
It is a salty, bitter taste.
My wounds need care.
I look up to my mom, but can think of nothing to say.
I am dying.
I need you.
Embrace me.
I am dying...
"Shhhh...