Whispered feelings
Spoken like a truth
The ears that accepts the faint breeze
Become blinded by a story-
History
.
Tainted and stained
A mind is re-framed
Learning to be in a state
Different and changed
.
Blackened clouds hover
Encompassed the fallen
How could words cause the heroes
Of yesterday to now mourn
.
An undiscovered potential
Instead of supporting their own
They would rather extend hands to the 'underdogs'
Their plan is theirs, and theirs alone
.
Immolations and sacrifices
A belief that a cause is worthy
But if a lie is told in pain
You strike the hand that holds the flame
About the Creator
Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor5 days ago in Fiction
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