- fist of Rukt
- |
- Noble Legendary Member
It's not Hip-Hop, its Electro.... prick.
(Intro)
Woodrow's father leaned over and spit into a pot, his green sickly face wrinkled in disgust. An old stiff blanket covered his shoulders but didn't seem to provide any warmth. In the corner a woman slept in an unnatural position, her yellow teeth showing from under her top lip. Her bruised bony arms lay lifeless around her. This was not Woodrow's mother, not the one that he had known and loved at the beginning of his life.
The cold of the Philadelphia spring air seeped through the cracks in their metal home, a reminder of the cruelty that existed beyond their makeshift hut. Woodrow, the fresh faced boy of 12 slipped through the leather covering and out into the morning. He stared across the mud, the toxic water, the dead, the living, the insane, and the evil. He stared not at these things but through them, at the greater purpose in life that he sought on the other side.
To be continued very soon by fist of Rukt!
[Edited on 03.02.2010 1:38 PM PST]