What?
What happened?
What's that? Is that...
No.
Oh god please no.
I...
No, oh god!
I had a life!
I had a life you bastards!
It can't be over, it's not fair. I can't...
Oh god no!
I was gonna do so much.
My mum...my kids...Oh god I can't take it in. I'm...
I can't be, I'm not even thirty yet, I've had no life!
I want my fucking life back you bastards!
Who did that? It wasn't, was it?
It can't have been, I hated us going to war.
I went to a fucking protest, you bastards!
And you fucking blew my bus up!
I WAS ON YOUR SIDE!
I wanna go back!
I've got so much to do!
I can't die now, I'm really busy!
I hope you're here with me you bastard.
Were you the one at the back with the Tesco bag?
I hope so.
I want you here with me
So I can look you in the eye
And fuck you over bigtime for what you did to me.
And if you're not here
I hope you soon will be
Because you don't deserve to live, you cunt.
I HAD A FUCKING LIFE!
Robin Goodfellow, or Puck - the ancient, mischevious forest spirit.
Litha - The festival of Midsummer, a week after my birthday.
Meet the one and only Robin Lithaborn
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
This is something that popped into my head today. It's pretty morbid. If anyone that comes here has missing family due to the London Bombings and takes objection to this, then let me know and I'll take it straight off.