[ WP ] A story with no point . Just the ramblings of someone committed to a mental institution .

Once upon a time there was a princess. 
 
 That princess was beautiful. Hair dark as the night sky, lips as red as blood. She laughed, and fought for what was right. 
 
 One day, she was told she needed to fight for her kingdom. So she did. 
 
 A bird tweeted...... that was a pretty bird, with yellow feathers and blue feathers and green feathers and....red... 
 
 Red 
 Red 
 Red 
 
 Blood. Blood was red? The princess thought it was. She saw red when she fought. Fighting is n't nice, only against bad things, like the people who brought her the medicine and that was bad and she needed time time was good but wait would they come soon? 
 
 The bird tweeted again, a song flying through pitches high and low, intensity varying as the sound traveled to her. The princess remembered sounds. Booms, shots, bullets to her ears that made them hurt and bleed. The princess could n't hear sometimes, and that made her scared. But it was ok, because she was giving good medicine, not like the bad medicine....... 
 
 The bird tweeted. It was a good somg, pretty and light, with, until a larger bird swooped in a swiped it with its claws. 
 
 There was a lot more red. 
 
 Red. Red was bad, 
 
 The princess saw a lot of bad things. Like red. The bird was like her friend. She had a friend. She was fighting one day, and a flying piece of danger stuck her friend. He fell, for some reason. 
 
 The princess saw a lot of red then. She held her friend in her arms, the red matching the color of her lips. His eyes glowed, but suddenly they did n't. A man told her to leave him. But he was her friend. 
 
 The princess did n't want to fight anymore. A bird cawed, the bird who killed the tweeety-bird. this caw-bird was bad. 
 
 The princess did n't want to fight anymore. 
 
 She would lay in bed, her pretty hair around her. She was sad. Sad was bad, they told her. They sent the princess home than. She was safe at home, they told her. The princess was content, but still sad. She would sit and read books, because she was smart while tweeety-birds sang around her. She cried sometimes, but the tweety-birds always made the princess chess happy. 
 
 The princess was sad one day. Walking in the kitchen, twiddling with her hair black as night. She sat, as bugs started streaming from the corners. The princess squinted her eyes, scared, as nasty bugs swarmed her. She opened her eyes, covered in tweeety-birds and caw/birds and bats, their feathers smothering her. She shut them, and she cried, crouching as she opened her eyes and the walls cried too. 
 
 The princess did n't like that. She cried again. And again. And again as she lived with bugs in her arms. 
 
 Some other people took her then. They said she was mad. Mad was bad, they said. The princess did n't like bad things. Like the caw-bird. Caw-birds were bad. 
 
 The princess lived there now. She sat down. 
 
 The bird tweeted. 
 
 The princess was sad. She missed her friend. She tried to picture his face, but it was hard. The details escaped her... 
 
 It was the bad people. They made her forget. They made her stupid. They were bad. 
 
 The princess looked around her sad room, her red lips biting, and she sat on her bed, looking out the window. The caw-bird... no, falcon was sitting there. Menacing, it ate at the songbird that was singing so sweetly to her before. It was like the battlefield. 
 
 The princess did n't like the battlefields. 
 
 The princess-no, I sat up. She-I, I mean, sat up. I looked up at the blank walls. I pictured him now. He was nice. I liked him. I remembered his smile. White. 
 
 Red stains white. I remembered the bombs, the bullets, the screech. The battlefields soaked in blood as a piece of shrapnel tore through my friends abdomen. I remember his face, it was nice. He was nice. I liked him. 
 
 I loved him. 
 
 I held him in my arms as the light in his eyes faded away. I held him as his blood soaked my uniform. I did n't want him to leave me. Me! He said he would n't leave me but he did because I was holding him and he died and now I'm here..... 
 
 I cried, a spiders began creeping down the walls. I cried harder, faces flashing before me. I squeezed my eyes shut, images of buildings collapsing and people dying racing through my mind. 
 
 I opened my eyes to wipe away the tears, and the spiders were closer. I curled up as the walls bled, too. Creatures creep up from the corners, the cracks, roaches insects wasps hornets....men. Birds falcons bats....... 
 
 They smothered me, attacking be with hits from their wings. 
 
 Each one spun and flew and clawed and cried and screamed at me, walking and running and biting me as I twisted and turned and cried out. Each thing in my sparse room was a weapon, hiding something red. I did n't like red. Red was like my friend, and my friend died. He was too red. 
 
 I curled up farther, my head by my knees. I was attacked, a storm raging in my room. I screamed, tears racing down my hot face as soldiers and medics filled the room. They raced around in formations and gunslinging groups, bugs of no affect. They were ghostly, real, helping others. My friend lay next to me. My eyes shut tighter, I shout amidst the chaos. `` Help him! Help ME!'' 
 
 I hear a whisper. `` Princess'', the man mutters, his smile fading as he lays bleeding by me. 
 
 I cry. Soldiers fade, and figures in white filled the room. The roaches and beetles cover me in a blanket of carapeices, and I stop struggling. I sigh, and turn to one, looking him in the eyes. Exhausted, I ca n't fight anymore. I do n't want to. 
 
 `` Make it stop'' I whisper. The man smiles. And takes a needle from his vest. I do n't care I just want it to stop to forget I do n't want this anymore...... 
 
 I scream from the bats against my face, but they hold my arm as the clear liquid is shot through my vein. They relax. I relax. I curled back up, and the hurricane starts to fade....... 
 
 The bugs crawl away. The whitecoats begin to leave. I was alone in my pretty white room with my pretty blacke hair. 
 
 Why was I upset? Was it the bad people? Bad people are n't good. The tweety bird was good. The princess liked the tweety-bird. 
 
 It was pretty. The princess liked pretty things. She was pretty, she had a pretty white gown and a nice white bed with a window. The princess loved windows. Her hair lay on her back and the new tweety-bird sat on the branch. `` Hello'', she cooed. It tweeted back. 
 
 She sat on the bed, content. 
 
 The bird tweeted. Tweety-birds were pretty. They had blue feathers and yellow feathers and green feathers and brown feathers and..... 
 
 Red. 
 
 ( So I wrote this thing once. It did n't post. I tried again, and it deleted the last half. So this is attempt 3. Sometimes I hate internet connections. It was a bit different from the post, and was supposed to be more random at the beginning. It kinda... became what is above. Sorry, I just did n't want to waste what I wrote after it deleted because I am stubborn )
