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12-09-2012, 11:07 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-09-2012, 11:08 PM by Prometheus.)
My figure crosses the landbridge with the carriage of a general and the sinking heart of a fallen soldier. I am tired, so tired of this existence that some days, marked only by the sinking of the sun that in my sleepless nights I watch out of boredom, I wish I could be dead for once. I desire little more than to rest my head for the last time. I have never before considered this life a curse, never before thought of myself as a weakness- a smudge across the beauty of the earth. Because the earth has never before been beautiful, the sky never before so serene. I feel empty in a new way, and you only follow. With naked, pale eyes I look out into the evening sun and wonder if the god that gave me these wings is still there. If he will return, and accept my request. Accept my request to hide his gift. You sit beside me in silence. You are always silent now. "Return to me God, let us speak of the past," I whisper into the fading light. My wings fold and I wait. It feels like forever, and yet I wait. [[Prometheus would like for his wings to be able to mend with his flesh so that he may hide them.]] |
![[Image: siggy1_zpsfwdjquxw.png]](http://i250.photobucket.com/albums/gg246/abbie3321451/abbie3321451131/siggy1_zpsfwdjquxw.png)
please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.
