Post by Ellie on Dec 29, 2008 11:21:15 GMT -5
The darkness lives
Inside my heart.
The darknesslives.
It took no start.
For from beginning of time,
Andas long as I remember
It was always there,not mine,
but always a member
Ofmy heart.
My tortured soul.
With my mask, apart
Of me, you'llalways know.
Inside my heart.
The darkness
It took no start.
For from beginning of time,
And
It was always there,
Of
My tortured soul.
With my mask, a
Of me, you'll
Hello. My name is Diam. I know, it sounds girlish, but I had a weird mother. Not that that wasn't fun, though. Oh no. That was her charm. She attracted people. Likes moths to a flame.
She is what you people would call a black widow. She marries you, gets all your money, then kills you. She's been married so many times it's unbelievable. But one time was different. He survived.
And that's when I was born.
She loved that man. He was rich, which was a plus, but she really loved him. Not at first. At first, she only saw the money, like always. But as the dating continued she fell deeper and deeper into that hole, that pit of despair known as love. *shudders* That is one thing I will never do.
But anyway, this man she married, but did not want to kill. She killed the rest of them. She wanted it. She needed it. It was her lifeblood. But he changed all that.
She became tame, just enough to control the urges, without ruining her personality. She lived with this man for years, raising me, and teaching me her ways.
My father, Arthur, had an influence on me too, but it must not have been I big one, because I can't remember anything about him. He died, of natural causes a few years after my birth. My mother then returned to "normal", heartbroken and alone. She never stopped loving me, no matter what I did.
I am eighteen, old enough to live on my own. I do, usually, but I'll often visit my mother, just out of good measure. After all, I love my mother. She's the one that made me who I am.
When I think of my birthday, the lonely day of August 1st, I often remember my mother. Her amazing personality, her gruesome humor, and her way of life, made me the amazing man I am today.
Speaking of that. I guess I should talk about me a little bit. Let you know me more.
I have a... wonderful personality. I like death. Blood, gore, shadows. All of it. I love it. It's my home. It makes me... comfortable.
Also, I like killing people. Well, I like killing bad people. It makes me feel... alive.
I love it all. The sights, the smells, the tastes.
But besides that, I'm really a very nice person. I like helping people, and I don't usually attack anyone. No. My deaths are much neater.
My appearance is rather off-putting to most. I stay in the shadows, and only come out when needed, if needed. Yes, I am good, but I am also evil...
What you people call my style, is goth. But I have added a subtle twist.
Between my black shirt and black undershirt, I keep rows and rows of throwing knives. There are also blow darts (the gun goes around my wrist, like one of those cheap slap-bracelets.), syringes (for "quick fixes"), and a small assortment of smoke bombs. This, of course, makes it slightly difficult to move, or would to anyone who wasn't used to it. I, however, am able to move as if nothing was there at all. It of course helps that my shirt is so loose, so you can't see any of my weapons.
My tight pants have no pockets, but that doesn't phase me. I can quickly get to everything from my sleeves.
Yes, I am just that cool.
Anyway. My face.
I have jet-black hair that goes to my ears. Annoying bangs hang in front of my face, hiding my blood-red eyes. The ears that don't work (on either side of my head) have multiple piercings. Each hole is filled with spikes, skulls, or drops of blood.
Yes. I bleed.
Often, and because of me. It's not that I like pain, I just like the sight of blood trickling down my arm...
My skin is paler than most, even though I stand in the sun for hours without burning.
Oh yes. Another weird thing about me.
I don't burn.
I am quite serious. No matter what I do, I don't burn. I've touched a pot holding boiling water, stood in the sun (without sunscreen) for hours on end, stuck my hand into an open flame. Heck, I've even lit myself on fire! Still, no burns.
Now would probably be a good time to mention I'm a pyromaniac.
As you might have guessed, I've burned all pictures of me, but somehow this one survived.
Some of the colors have faded, but it looks better this way.