Life isn't Always Sweet For A Piñata. Journal #17

It was dark. Very dark. I remember being chosen. Chosen to do this certain task. I felt so anguished. I felt so violated on how they torn me open and shoved billions of packets of joy within me. Yet, I was not over joyed. I felt nothing but fear. Oh why was I chosen for this task? This task that could mean the end for me. Oh please, oh please let them forget I am in here. All I could hear were footstepscoming at   my direction. Don't open the door. Have mercy on me and don't open the door. Yet, that is all I heard. A loud creak echoed through the closet as the light blinded my eyes. "Can I get it now mommy." A boy stood in front of me eagerly waiting to take me out. "Yes tommy. Go ahead and take it out." The boy picked me up. I was to heavy for him so my limp body was dragged across the floor. My surronding were strange. All I remebered was being shoved into the closet. A gust of wind hit me . As the boy set me down on the grass as he walked out of his house, all I could see were children hungrily looking at me. "I can't wait!" he shouted with joy. A man then lifted me from the grass. He hung me over the tree. Oh how I wish I wasn't who I was. I saw a girl as she clutched the stick. Swinging it trying to hit me. I felt a light tap here and there. I was filled with relief when the last child hit me. Yet, all I heard was "I want to go next". A older boy stood up taking the stick. Thunk! THUNK! THUNK! Each hit grew louder and more painful. Then i felt myself torn open. As I took my last "breath" all I saw were smiling children fighting over my sweet blood.