Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Some Fans Just Didn't Like The Black Parade
0 ReviewsThe title says it all...
Helena straightened her black and red dress with her pale hands as she sat crossing her legs in the dark corners of zeitgeist. She looked around her. Everything was dark and dingy. She felt her eyes sting but she managed to blink black the tears emerging from her eyes. She was afraid she'd ruin her make-up. She stood up and looked around, wishing to see the end of this dark abyss. She tried to walk but she trembled and fell. Her knees were shaking as if it was her first time to walk. She just sat there, trembling, reminiscing the good times she had in the past. She remembered the time when she was laid down in the coffin as she tried to listen to the beautiful song entitled after her name. The words swam through her head as if a lost memory trying to find its way home. The lyrics...the beautiful lyrics of the song...Well if you carry on this way, things are better if I stay...
A black tear went rolling down her white cheeks. Later on, little streams of black eyeliner destroyed her delicate face. She was forgotten. And she will always be. She was the only one who remembers. She remembers the moment where she danced on the aisle of the church while he was singing the bridge of the song...Can you hear me?....Are you near me?
But she was merely a memory. Some memories get buried and are forgotten forever. She was just the figment of the singer's imagination. An inspiration that made him write songs about revenge. Then later on, she was forgotten. First, she was the center of attention. The attraction and the symbol of their fame.
Well, if she carries on this way...things are better off this way. She wiped her cheeks with her palms. Her palms became black of color from the smeared eyeliner. She looked around once again. Darkness. She heaved a sigh. She punched the floor with her black-smeared hands. She continued punching the floor until her hands catch pain. She punched, showering her anger and loneliness in the punches to the floor. She stopped punching when she saw the presence of red blood oozing slowly from her hands, making a red riverine. Her hands were a mess. She examined the black and red colors on her hands, which reminded her of a song which goes...Another knife in my hands..
She wiped her hands on her dress. A stain was not present since the dress itself was black and red.
She gathered up all her strength and stood up, taking baby walks. She stepped daintily with her feet adorned with black ballet shoes. She began walking gracefully. She walked like a true ballerina. A black ballerina. The memories of the dance steps she used to perform on the aisle came back to her.
Helena began to dance...
A black tear went rolling down her white cheeks. Later on, little streams of black eyeliner destroyed her delicate face. She was forgotten. And she will always be. She was the only one who remembers. She remembers the moment where she danced on the aisle of the church while he was singing the bridge of the song...Can you hear me?....Are you near me?
But she was merely a memory. Some memories get buried and are forgotten forever. She was just the figment of the singer's imagination. An inspiration that made him write songs about revenge. Then later on, she was forgotten. First, she was the center of attention. The attraction and the symbol of their fame.
Well, if she carries on this way...things are better off this way. She wiped her cheeks with her palms. Her palms became black of color from the smeared eyeliner. She looked around once again. Darkness. She heaved a sigh. She punched the floor with her black-smeared hands. She continued punching the floor until her hands catch pain. She punched, showering her anger and loneliness in the punches to the floor. She stopped punching when she saw the presence of red blood oozing slowly from her hands, making a red riverine. Her hands were a mess. She examined the black and red colors on her hands, which reminded her of a song which goes...Another knife in my hands..
She wiped her hands on her dress. A stain was not present since the dress itself was black and red.
She gathered up all her strength and stood up, taking baby walks. She stepped daintily with her feet adorned with black ballet shoes. She began walking gracefully. She walked like a true ballerina. A black ballerina. The memories of the dance steps she used to perform on the aisle came back to her.
Helena began to dance...
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