Boner

*More writings on the walls*

I'll wring my hands and gnash my teeth
And I'll pound the ground like fresh red beef.
The memory of your touch I once had
Will slowly, surely drive me mad;
Or...has it already?

August 15th
Mourn not the loss, but the memory if you must.
Weeds are we, and weeds get cut.
No longer desired, they must be cut.
His child, oh his dear child. Taken in the Night.
Wife, oh poor beloved wife.
What could inflict more despair upon someone,
than their child snatched in the night?
A child that never returns.
For no longer shall the child be raised by her parents,
but by Another.

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