once upon a time,
through inhales of cigarette smoke,
grime and long gone hope,
rose a pretty little woman.
i was fortunate enough to witness this.
i witnessed the rise and fall of a soul so pure.
so purely stained by reality’s ruthless claws.
a soul so pained by the universe’s laws.
her knees? bruised, from the falls.
her eyes? dark, from the endless tearful nights.
her hair? knotted, from all the pulling her devils did.
her lips? warm, from the blood that dripped.
the red she bled accompanied by sorrow.
her voice? soft, but so immensely broken.
so fatigued and weary,
because although she doesn’t realize it,
her aura screams in tongues
of unbearable agony.
once upon a time,
we met.
through the plans of
some unknown being.
seeing how our pain had grown so similar.
and ever since we held onto each other, we haven't left.
because,
once upon a time, we suffered.
once upon a time, we were crushed by the damages done to us.
once upon a time, we were cowards and refused to face our devils.
once upon a time, we were disposable in this barren waste land.
and life isn’t a fairytale, it will continue to do it’s worst
and we’ll feel pain like no other.
but, i’d rather continue
my painful tale with her,
than without.
-melancholicreator
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