Time and Time Again!

Over the years, Ive watched him grow. Through the baby stages to death. Ive seen the struggles, the joy, the despair. It was totally in all clear. He nalways gave a thought, that he wasnt alone in his room. He was never alone, I was there. I was there in the walls, the dirty carpet he refused to clean, in the posters, the holes, in that gamey boy smell he emitted as a teen. I was there for him, strong and yobbo as the walls. Comforted him as he sobbed on my carpet. I was his escape, his punishment. When he knew noone else was there, he would ramble to me. I was there. I was there for his arrival. I was there to watch him all bundled up and warm, smiling and asleep, more than than peaceful then hell ever be as he grows old. I was there to soothe him asleep, as his mother drinks downstairs, and his publication leaves. I was there for his first steps. I was there to guide him on my walls, begging for love and affection. I was there to praise him. I was there. I was there when he entered localise school. I was there to cherish him when the kids teased him. He had no mother, no father. Endless torments berated him. I was there to hold him. I was there. I was there when he was 17. I was watching as he tied the rope to the lover. I was there for the plans, the preparation, and the event itself.

I was there to pry the strike out loose from the drywall. I was there. I was there when he was 34. Living alone, corking and captive in my walls. I was there as he arranged my insides to their cleanest perfection. I was there... this typography was inspired by a true story and it was create verbally by a ram friend of mine non me...she did her best so acquaintance mercy when ure rating plz If you indigence to get a riotous essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com

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