Setsuo-Makkii

Shiki...Hana... You look so happy in this photo. Is it because Mom was still alive? Because the mountain was still warm? Brother, Sister... You look so flushed with warmth. Is it because the sun still shone? Because birds still sang? Big Brother, Big Sister You never smiled like that again. Is it because Mom died? Because our home is no longer warm? Is it because the sun hid behind the clouds? Because the birds have left and no longer sing? Or, Shiki, Hana, is it because I was born?

Your seal is red, My alchemy's blue, Believe me, Alphonse, I want her back too. When that bastard left Mom, Mom also departed, To just see her once more, Is all that we wanted. May our pyre show this promise I make, To both mom an Alphonse, and to my mistake.

Thump The resulting pound of a heart Pounding away each minute Like a bruise, it pulses  Eager to be felt within my chest Thump Th-thump It stutters inside me Cold creeping along my veins Like frost across a window pane Silently across my heart Thump The beating keeps on A dirge to accompany me Like a shadow in the dark Latching to my mind  Silence It stopped All is silent Everything is done Everyone is gone.

Chapter 2 Everything was warm, and soft like clouds. I felt no pain, and ... my eyes were closed. Where was I? When I opened my eyes, all my senses waken. I could feel a stinging pain across my body. My fingers and toes burned. The smell of antiseptic assaulted my nose, and loud, obnoxious beeping from the machines I was hooked up to. "Setsuo?" A soft, scared voice asked me. After a moment, recognition triggered and I looked over to my right, where my handsome older brother sat. Shichi was sitting on the side of my bed, hovering over me, holding my right hand. He had short, brownish hair like our fathers, but our mothers eyes. I blinked at

Fear Relief Hope Anger Hate They mix together in a swirling mess of emotion that reigns they tingle softly within my limbs within my lungs and inside my heart they pulse gently my body moves emotion rules and so I wrap my arms around your slim shoulders shoulders that have carried too much at a time I press my cheek against your hair soft as snow as luminous As the moon in the dark no cloud can block out its shine Nothing can blot you out You are candle in the dark and I’m a moth to your flame. You are water in this dry desert And you’ve sustained me this long I press you to me feel your chest rise and fall with each

 I'm sorry What I said Was Wrong I should not have I'm so sorry What I did Was wrong Why would I do that? I'm very sorry What I felt Was wrong I had no right Do you forgive me? I hope not Because I don't deserve it.

Why is the way I dress wrong? Why do you have to ask? Is it not enough that it expresses who I am? That you have to ask why I wear what I wear, or why it's always black? Why are the things I like wrong? Why do you have to ask? Is it not enough that what I like personifies me? That you have to ask why I listen to what I listen to, or why it's always melancholy? Why is the way I act wrong? Why do you have to ask? Is it not enough that I be myself? That you have to ask why I am so quiet, or why when you do speak, you sound so sad? The way I am is not wrong, You shouldn't ask me WHY Am I me? WHY Am I quiet? WHY do I dress like this? WHY do