queenofdisco
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2008
- Messages
- 1,853
- Reaction score
- 964
- Points
- 275
What Is Wrong? (Short Love Story)
In the perspective of a father who loves his daughter in a more mature way, he knows its wrong/sick he fights himself to contain it. I pity him, you may hate him, you may not care, but please do enjoy this piece.
This was written from a writing duel from an acquaintance of mine, he said we should swap writing styles for a singular story, he believes me good at fight scenes, so he wrote a battle story, and I done a love story to the best of my ability.
This was written in a half hour, casual work, pure flow it was, please enjoy it.
----------
What Is Wrong?
I watched her for what seemed a decade for what was a decade, I loved her, she loved me but not for the way I yearned her to. For many years I've watched her grow, watched her laugh, stopped her tears, lavished her with attention & gifts; she always replied with lies in her eyes, clearly tiring of my attempt.
I stare as she grows. Looking at that despicable fiend, such a sick demon stands affront me, such a dark member looks in the mirror, and I look back at myself; "What is wrong with me" I ask.
"Eyes away!" I roar.
"Could I not?" I tempt.
"No." I firmly told I.
My head falls, tears well, but the water does not fall they strengthen and hold themselves back as she runs into my arms.
"How was your day?" I ask her, forcing my self into new thought. She giggled, "it was ok daddy, but I don't like my new teacher."
I choke to summon a smile, while brushing the hair out of her eyes, "lets go home, mums got dinner on the stove" I say.
"Will you ever tell anyone about us?" I ponder at myself.
"I can't." I growl.
"You can't hold out forever, we will have her." He stabs me with words.
Speechless I grow, “go away” I beg.
"Silence of me is silence of yourself" I laugh cruelly.
"I am not you, I am not a we" I voice, with strange glares from her.
My head shakes in regret, in denial, I arrive with her at her mothers, I leave to my ale my blessed poison, my beloved thought ending friend.
I gulp the drink "what am I, what is wrong with me" I ask.
_________
Hermit
In the perspective of a father who loves his daughter in a more mature way, he knows its wrong/sick he fights himself to contain it. I pity him, you may hate him, you may not care, but please do enjoy this piece.
This was written from a writing duel from an acquaintance of mine, he said we should swap writing styles for a singular story, he believes me good at fight scenes, so he wrote a battle story, and I done a love story to the best of my ability.
This was written in a half hour, casual work, pure flow it was, please enjoy it.
----------
What Is Wrong?
I watched her for what seemed a decade for what was a decade, I loved her, she loved me but not for the way I yearned her to. For many years I've watched her grow, watched her laugh, stopped her tears, lavished her with attention & gifts; she always replied with lies in her eyes, clearly tiring of my attempt.
I stare as she grows. Looking at that despicable fiend, such a sick demon stands affront me, such a dark member looks in the mirror, and I look back at myself; "What is wrong with me" I ask.
"Eyes away!" I roar.
"Could I not?" I tempt.
"No." I firmly told I.
My head falls, tears well, but the water does not fall they strengthen and hold themselves back as she runs into my arms.
"How was your day?" I ask her, forcing my self into new thought. She giggled, "it was ok daddy, but I don't like my new teacher."
I choke to summon a smile, while brushing the hair out of her eyes, "lets go home, mums got dinner on the stove" I say.
"Will you ever tell anyone about us?" I ponder at myself.
"I can't." I growl.
"You can't hold out forever, we will have her." He stabs me with words.
Speechless I grow, “go away” I beg.
"Silence of me is silence of yourself" I laugh cruelly.
"I am not you, I am not a we" I voice, with strange glares from her.
My head shakes in regret, in denial, I arrive with her at her mothers, I leave to my ale my blessed poison, my beloved thought ending friend.
I gulp the drink "what am I, what is wrong with me" I ask.
_________
Hermit
