cold

That's all he ever knew, cold. The cruel cold of the streets, to the cruel cold of the people walking by. It was dirty... And cold. Was there any hope left? Was there somebody with a kind heart to help him? Who cared... Nobody. So why should he care? As he sat there. In a dark, cold, and dirty alleyway. His face injured, with a deep gash, blood slowly slipping out of it. Dripping onto the dirty ground. His body skinny and bruised. Battered by the harsh weather, and that samurai. The only true friends he ever had were the rats scurrying around. And even then they never stayed for long And even then he had nobody... Not anymore... Not after that samurai took his sister... His little sunshine. The only good thing he ever had... But.. the world took that away, maybe he was just put in the world to be cursed And as he sat there. A cold, hateful expression on his face people walking by with disgust etched in their faces as they saw gyutaro. He paid them no mind. They were no better than him.. atleast in his mind, they were just as bad. Because they just continued walking..