the wind whipped through my hair, through my very soul, it made me realize, what I lost, and what i could never regain, as i stood on the brink of the unforgiven, I looked down into blackness, wished for it to envelope me, but the light shone through, the wind no longer blew, and the voices that haunt me, grew silent because they knew, i was a beaten man, and they had their revenge
Jackal, you've describe how you feel, but not why. Could you expound on this a bit? I think may then grab the reader with a bit more force. What were you beaten by? Life? Love? Religion? Alcohol? A school kid? Why are you feeling sorry for yourself? Help!
------------------ Sunshine Words will always express our feelings true. ~~~ KRJ Look, then, into thine heart, and write ~~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow