The black torrents wash within me and I watch my light darken, I have used up so much energy in the fight that I have no resistance. I can see waves of black cascading through me in streams. I can see pools of darkness forming as my thoughts circle inside my head, my worries they are storming and desire to fill me with the utmost dread. The ebony's essence streamlines my dreams, sending me flying further into the deepest depths of the dark. My charcoal childhood was always less than chaste, as I searched high and low for a cure that would prevent my life from turning into toxic waste. No lights or sounds surround me, as I face my innermost demons and search for a friendly face, or nuance that will help ground me, and bring me closer back into myself. I can no longer live a life of knowing that I am merely settling for second best, so I cover my paintbrush in the whitest paint, ivory dances and sings as it tries to wash away the darkness that I have faced. My canvas is testament to the trials that I have endured, the whites that purify the black, and self-consciously create greys hoping to hide the error of my ways. I fail to connect to the human that lives inside me, pay no heed to the mind that the universe has granted me. I was meant to live for so much more, but I lost myself, time and time again. As I crawled through the shadows, all I searched for was a friend although I failed to realize that the love I sought lived inside me all along. I have always been better at offering others advice than taking it when I need it the most, as a result, I have become an apparition, I have become another jaded ghost. I call an ambulance after shooting a flare high into the sky, hoping that I no longer have to listen to misery's most sullen lullabies. It whistles wildly, and lets out the most piercing screams as it careens throughout the streets. Dead man walking, that I am, I give in to the darkness, and accept my grim defeat. Black, the colour of my heart after you cut off its circulation, broken,I am no longer open to happiness, I have become an empty vessel filled with nothing but degradation.
Time stood still for nary a soul, it dragged its feet, aching and old. Blistering heat that made us melt, we were once softer than silk felt. Hallowed hearts wind whistled through, covered in bruises, black and blue. Hardly broken, but maybe bent, running on empty and love spent. There comes a day in all our lives, when our failures cut deep as knives. But you shall remain a triumph, you stayed with me, like a science. Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout, until the blood drained from our mouths. Yesterday—softer than silk felt; seems like all we do these days is yell.
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