Skeletons break, don't they?
Creak under pressure,
Bow beneath the excess weight of failure.
Bones...they break, don't they?
They break in an ugly way,
Marrow exposed to cold air and flesh pierced
In a way that requires metal rods and screws
And blood-soaked gloves to resemble
Something normal
But it never really is again, is it?
Bones, skeletons, they break beyond fixing.
._______________________________.
So does the soul snap beyond repair?
Does it break in unfixable ways
That pierce through the chest
Or does it fragment like burst glass in the eyes?
Maybe it doesn't break at all
But withers into something small and vanishes
Without a trace.
No.
That isn't it at all.
._______________________________.
No, it breaks because something has broken in me
That can't be fixed.
The marrow of my mind is exposed to air from this...
Complex break in my soul.
It can be screwed together again, I am sure.
But it will ache when the rain comes.
It will never be right no matter how many skillful hands
Glue the pieces back together.
It will never be right.
._______________________________.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Writer of the dark! Think of it like flipping rocks, the weird little stories underneath are my jam and jelly. Jam and butter? Just jam. Absolutely no use of AI in any of my works :)
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
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