In the times of weariness, one simply wishes to be left alone. An episode of silence and darkness would suffice for any one individual. Being surrounded by people instantly disgusts them, for they wish for isolation.
Once the pain of isolation sets in, they begin to feel lethargic and dull. Void of life. They cannot comprehend what they feel, and so they ignore it altogether. For the life they live does not feel worth living.
They soon begin to dwell upon thoughts of suicide, for death surely sound better than this drudgery known as life. The numbness of hatred is overwhelming, and they wish for an escape. Death, they think, will be the perfect way to end this tormented existence.
And sometimes, a few individuals succumb to the gaping jaws of death. They walk right through of their own will; they even remove their shoes at the door, for when they pass from one life to the next, they feel like they are finally home. Death, for them, has become a lifeless paradise.
For the poor souls who do not have enough willpower to cut all ties to the corporeal world, they will toil on; living as worthless human beings, working as a slave to a higher power known as life. Merely surviving for these soldiers is not enough, but since they have no strength to strive for something higher, they will continue to plod on day to day. Tears will mingle with sweat every second they breathe, but they will receive the unwanted gift of a new day, and soon, it too, shall pass.
Last edited by Yani; 07-11-2013 at 01:14 AM.
I like it!
Shining brighter than the night,
Swallowed by an angel's fright.
I can't see what's in front of me;
I'm crawling on my hands and feet.
A patch of sun comes here and there.
Should I enjoy it? Do I dare?
I'm trying not to breathe hard;
My heart is dead, I'll jump-start.
Rock back and forth, holding my knees;
wake me from this madness, please.
This vicious cycle never ending
is stealing all my life worth spending.
No mercy, all pain,
Slowly going insane.
Lost my mind, gone away;
Always knowing day to day.
The victim of my own mind;
Slowly running out of time.
A loaded gun, cocked back
Pull the trigger, click clack.
Take the knife, steel blade,
Slice it each and every way.
Can't quit, no escape.
Going back is too late.
Ride it high, do or die.
Another tally for a lie.
Another scar upon my chest.
Leaving because I hate the mess.
Broken mind, bleeding heart,
Another body in the dark.
Blood-drenched, soaked red,
Speaking in the tongues of dead.
Heart of fire, mind of ice,
Voices speaking, pay the price.
Lost causes, tortured souls,
A cacophony of pain unfolds.
This world of ours, burn it down,
This hell we live, hear the sound.
Life is good, life is sweet,
Life is pain, life is grief.
Like stone, we stood against the wind;
a most fearsome breath we did oppose.
A relentless force bent on self-proclamation,
and the omnipotent eye did see all.
We soldiers stood upright and grim,
our anger warming frozen bones.
The crushing of our limbs began;
the pressure to step back and run.
But slowly and surely did their will crack,
and one by one did they begin to fall.
Our soldiers turned their backs, retreating;
they fled to where they would not be harmed.
Numbers dwindling, one death counted,
the leader's spirit within a new host,
the few faced the wind, standing firm;
the fury bent them, but they did not break.
Arrows of exile the lord did fire,
and more soldiers fled to escape that fate.
One did pierce the fearless leader,
but the blades remained held high.
The fighters were wounded, but their fingers clenched;
tirelessly did they battle on,
until the worthless endurance finally devoured,
and the leader finally fell.
The soldiers froze, spirits aghast;
the one they fought for was now faded.
For what could they now stand?
For what purpose would their directive serve?
A sleepless mass they shall remain;
a silent uprising of justice.
Never more will the leader breathe;
the fighter has gone home.
From across the battlefield
stood a man wreathed in flame.
An emotional fire,
a torrent of emotion;
all hidden behind a pale white mask.
His grey eyes unblinking,
sword held high;
Through his enemies he flew,
his blade delivering the final sleep.
And when his footsteps did tire,
he took to the red-lined clouds.
Thunder reverberated in his ears,
it shook the ground below.
And when he raised his sword again,
the lightning of his fury rendered death.
And the screams below darkened the clouds.
The rain fell from the sky,
and he descended.
Back to the battle he retreated;
returning to the life he knew.
The winds of death hissed throughout the land,
black feathers in its wake.
A cacophony of lives ending filled his mind,
but it did not deter him.
His power undying,
how sword held firm,
the soldier refused to break.
For what did he fight?
For whom did he stand?
For himself, the whispers said,
for a woman, the rumors hushed.
For naught, the people chided.
The blood of the dead stained him;
his face a marble of red and white.
His garb appeared aflame;
his eyes were cold as ice.
Once the last soldier fell,
the man ascended.
He summoned the rain.
And the wives wept for their husbands;
the children wept for their fathers.
The rain of their grief flooded the lands throughout;
all traces of death were washed away.
And he turned his back to the battlefield,
he wanted no recognition.
To his solace he fled,
to home he returned.
To the skies he gazes,
for peace, his heart yearns.
you are really good 9/10!!!
beautiful piece I would like to publish a story I wrote but this in Spanish
The days are cold with
the winter snow, and
it opens the eyes
of the people below.
A bright shining sun
from behind the thick clouds
shines a pale, muted light
on the heedless small crowd.
A white dance of death
to the ones on the street
is a blessing and curse,
and they long for heat.
The sidewalks are wet,
matching the sky.
And the people speak cruel
of the frozen tears of the sky.
I sit on a bench
made roughly of stone.
It's the snow and I only;
I feel so alone.
For as a dead sky weeps,
I do so in my soul.
I'm trying to live,
to regain my control.
The air bites my neck,
it nibbles my ears,
it numbs up my fingers,
it freezes my tears.
The cacophony of silence,
the sounds of the dead;
the park is so quiet,
it dulls my loud head.
For one to awaken
from this state of confusion,
you must ride from the bench;
it is merely an illusion.
I was never here,
the park does not exist.
My life has been bypassed.
I have not been missed.
I gaze at the sky,
which is only a blank veil of white.
I look all around me, and
there is nothing in sight.
To be truly alone
is a nightmare worth dreaming.
You'll never know the wonder
until you start screaming.
A raw-throated yell
from the man in your mind
is more than enough
to throw you out of line.
My screams do not echo,
in fact I can't hear them.
I can't hear myself think,
and I can't ever hear him.
I drop to my knees,
my dying heart sinking.
I strive for your eyes,
and my soul begins thinking.
If the world, swathed in white,
was a happier place,
then what a joy it would be
to see a smile on each face,
To see a smile of yours,
which in itself is a gem,
and makes my day whole;
and more often than them.
The moon can only
be lit by the sun.
Without you I'm in darkness,
surrounded by one.
That was truly beautiful.