The Walk

This is another really old one, I feel kinda lazy uploading all my old stuff. I wrote this one while in 6th grade, it got a pretty bad grade but I've always been fond of it. Thought I'd upload it and see if anyone else appreciated it.

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She walks endlessly,
In this hell of hers.
A beuitiless land,
Of her own creation.

She dreams of pasts nonexistant,
And looks into the vast emptieness.
Knowing freedom is beond the path,
And knowing the path never ends.

The sky has no stars,
It has no moon,
She looks to the sky,
Hoping to find a hope.

Voices taunt her as she walks,
Of pasts nonexistant,
Of her sins,
And of freedom from the hell.

Relief from the pain is over the next hill,
The next hill never comes,
But is always there,
Taunting her as she walks.

The voices talk of before time,
A creation of sin,
Hatred,
And an animal to hold it all.

Violent hateful creatures,
Creations of perfection,
Cause of sin,
All Beautiful and foul exists in this animal.

Perfection blessed the animal,
Love, Kindness, Empethy, and Knowledge,
Sin cursed the animal,
Hatred, Misery, Jelosy, And Ignorence.

Thus a blend of Perfect and Sin,
The animal was spared by the grace of Perfection,
Greed overcame the animal,
And the animal apposed Perfection.

Voices tell her of memories nonexistant,
Entity of selfcreation, Perfection, Sin, and the animal,
None existed to her,
Only the hill and the excape that lay behind it.

She is always in pain,
She has no wounds,
Never can she stop walking,
Just over the hill.

The voices speak to her,
Of all these stories,
Voices that cannot be seen,
Only heard.

Voices tell her of a nonexistant war,
Of the animal striking against Perfection,
And of Selfcreation and Sin,
Siding against Perfection.

The war didn't exist,
Only the hill,
And what lay behind it,
Exist.

They tell her of Sin being striken down,
By the hand of Perfection,
Into a hell of its own,
Just as she.

She is told of Selfcreation,
Dieing at the hand of the animal,
Selfcreation too was sent to a hell,
Then only Perfection and the animal.

The animal,
Being a creation of Sin,
Attacked Perfection yet again,
But was not sent to a hell as was Sin.

Perfection smiled apon the animal,
Rather than send the animal to a hell,
Perfection sent the animal,
In another place.

This place was not a hell,
But a place of self judgment,
A place for a second try,
A place for Perfection's animal.

Voices told of this story,
Of selfcreation, Perfection, Sin, and the animal,
An endless number of times,
As she walked.

None of this meant anything,
All of this was nonexistant to her,
Everything that existed was here,
The hill, the freedom, and the starless sky.

The voices began to speek to her,
They began to tell of a new story,
the voices told her she was done,
Her punishment was done.

The voices had changed,
No longer taunting and cruel,
But welcomeing and kind,
She looked up.

She did what she had never done,
She stoped walking and looked up,
The once painful empty sky,
Was now full of stars.

She saw a moon,
Her once beutiless land,
In wich she had always been,
Now overwhelmed her with beauty.

She turned around,
And saw a firey cloud,
A sin of the animal,
And she was blinded.

She fell to the ground,
Hand over her eyes,
She looked up for her stars,
And the sky was again empty.