Tears tear upon my ears and ring with distance resounding now
Two years.
5 days hence your 36, and I've done much to move on.
Burned the bridge with greek fire, slashed tires and bombs. The blaze I burned a pittance compared to the fire raging an inscription upon my soul.
Oh how I've learned my capacity for destruction, exhausting my ambition to scupt my sephiroth by the injustice of it all.
The pain. Would never leave. Couldn't. Shouldn't. Would not. Yet waned with each severed thread held in place by that pact. Trickling like a trickster.
I feel as If the widower now, black against even abysmal shadows, drowned out by thoughts of quicker deaths than one sought out by my shallow cuts & hours drunk to numb this, my greatest loss. Lost for words I stumbled deeper in the mines of hades, time changing by months or days.
What kills a man can be any overabundance, but you killed my spirit. It was I who offered the sacrifice. stupidly, but you I name liar. The deal was not kept, could never be, yet after dying deaths daily, my weeping heart wept, hated and forgot hailing new depths forsaken each breath taken away from me vying to make this make sense.
I'm done.
I want it back.
I want the fuel to live life unkempt and uncertain, laughing at the impossibilities lorded over those too weak to withstand the pressure and my rebelious will to keep fighting fate.
It's not too late, still I feel I've aged a decade in 2 years
Only now, waking to see the sweet nap given to me as punishment for lying under the timeless tree.
haunted no longer
By the visions of a
Wraith.
