I do not deserve the sympathy of either an angel nor a demon, and yet she stand her ground in her belief that I have a soul worthy of saving. It have always puzzled me, the mind of the innocent, because they see the world as a place of opportunities and light. Wherever I lay my gaze I see pain and death and darkness, sprinkled with a little despair to top it all off. I feel sorry for her, for living such a lie, and even more so if she chose it by herself. Nothing is permanent. Not even myself. So I change the weight of my body slightly as I fill my lungs with perfumed air. It stings and covers my next words in false hope. "Then maybe you can give me something to celebrate about?" I phrase it like a question even if it's truly a dare. If she's so innocent and happy as she appears, she should fall right for it and if not.. well, then she's scarred. Pretty faces and burning eyes often hides the deepest scars, as I have learned from my beautiful Queen. Oh how I miss her face and laughter, but most of all, I miss the warmth of her body. I do not care much for memories, but the day in the rain, just before the plague arrived, that I will cherish to the day I die. But my Queen is not here and I have no idea if she's alive or not. Maybe she has forgotten me and moved on? I hope so, for I bring nothing but pain. Windwalker |
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I hate and I love. Why, you may ask?
I don’t know, but it’s happening, and I burn.
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