#warriorbook

Link here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12254976/1/The-Moon-s-Prophecy

I hold onto thin air so it doesn’t vanish. I grip the hem of the mannequin’s dress so it doesn’t break. I suppress my breaths so they don’t cut. I hide my guns so I don’t shoot you out on the open road. Oh, why isn’t it enough? What a misfortune for someone who doesn’t believe in luck. I tried to eradicate the poison of your brain but my strength just wasn’t enough to kill the toxin. Don’t die out into your own perceptions. My Native American, you’re a warrior. Not limp. Not weak. You’re not the enemy. You’re my miracle. Columbus discovered this land as I discovered your marks. I saw every inch of you. And loved every part of it.  Oh, how we wish hurricanes didn’t exist. Please don’t hit our home, we pleaded. But probabilities smacked our faces and now here we are. Underwater. Please don’t let me go. Don’t leave me. I love you. And I won’t let you go. I won’t leave. I love you, my Native American. My warrior.

Is it this brain or the rails do exist? Is the train as far as my watch says it is? I paint on the gray canvas because I may be overreacting. I hide the hammer and nails because I can’t let you see me so uncertain. No, I’m not faking. I’m not pretending. I’m still butter. Melting at the hot knife’s blade. Is the train faking? Is the knife pretending? No more lines. No more Picasso. No more Miró. Let me make it out. Let me know now. Or make an effort.

  He’s my rock.