Maybe the place to be is below, lower than those you deemed below. Maybe to keep your character you must lose your status.
❤6
To be at peace amidst a war that brews slowly to destruction is unlike anything on earth, it indulges you in tranquility longer than you admit as the nagging chatter arises beyond the clouds. ' How dare you become what you don't see?' Their teeth crick like an old door, scent of something rusting and dead, reminding you again of your indescribable weight on souls, of the heaviness you didn't choose to become.
To be the exact opposite of doom that means to transform humanity into a measure of gold and stones ridding what little serenity you have left, it makes you a threat, a byproduct of existing in your mind and it takes over you even when they grit ' How do you get to be the sun when we carry the darkness on our backs?'
And so you become a threat, not by flames nor by sword, but by the silent reality of your mad mind.
To be the exact opposite of doom that means to transform humanity into a measure of gold and stones ridding what little serenity you have left, it makes you a threat, a byproduct of existing in your mind and it takes over you even when they grit ' How do you get to be the sun when we carry the darkness on our backs?'
And so you become a threat, not by flames nor by sword, but by the silent reality of your mad mind.
🔥7
Who taught you rhyme of escape, that flight through the fog of the night?
Who warned you of monsters that live in his chest,
long before you arrive to claim him, to call him your right?
Who told you that demons wear heaven‑scented skin,
that soft halos disguise where decay lies within?
That scars are the maps on the walls of his heart,
engraved constellations in ruinous art?
Who led you down corridors hollow with lies,
a maze where your laughter like fading echo dies?
Who made you vanish, who taught you despair,
’til loathing replaced every vow, every prayer?
Who warned you of monsters that live in his chest,
long before you arrive to claim him, to call him your right?
Who told you that demons wear heaven‑scented skin,
that soft halos disguise where decay lies within?
That scars are the maps on the walls of his heart,
engraved constellations in ruinous art?
Who led you down corridors hollow with lies,
a maze where your laughter like fading echo dies?
Who made you vanish, who taught you despair,
’til loathing replaced every vow, every prayer?
👍5❤2
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🔥5