Chronicles of A Dream Made Into Nothing: It starts with a dream and enough passion to drive yourself to make such a radical and ludicrous thought come to life. To see it breath, it live and thrive and grow. But darkness glooms in the corners. Sneering with its wicked schemes at your attempts, but it waits, this thick blackness bids its time. Others may come and try to rip this idea from you, try to gut out your love and desire for this said dream. Some may hinder you for a time, but you try, you push forward always smiling till finally you can smile and laugh at all of them in triumph of your almost reached victory. Your goal within your grasp, this is when the darkness comes. With withered fingers and twisted smiles, it uncurls your touch upon your dream and rips it away. While replacing it with something far deeper in despair and far viler and corrupt than that beauty that you held within your grasp. All that is lost is your childish passion, your never ending drive to try. Till finally, as the eyes pan out and you sit alone staring at nothing you realize, how foolish you were to believe that you could not be deceived. That you were untouchable with this dream, with this love, and now, you are so far within a hole you feel like you have fallen just past hell. Because Hell could be sweeter than this agony. This thing that eats away, making that perfect porcelain mask in your hand crumbles and cracks with webs of regret. Seeping in like ghosts slipping in and out of the sheets of my skin, I can feel this cold thing holding me, whispering to me that ‘it’s right here.’ But I don’t want this evil hopeless creature to comfort me. I want my dream… I want my happy ending… but all I get is that darkness, closing in like a chilling blanket to envelope me. I’m losing my mind and you just stand there cloaked in this blackness, your smile trying to consul when I can feel the evil sneer beneath. You are the blackness, you are the wicked truth. My world falls apart like a house of cards and you just watch like it’s a piece of art. Destruction is beautiful to you my love, the way that it looks as it comes apart. You sink back into the shadows, waiting for your next victim while I cut my fingers on the broken pieces of my heart. In my destruction, I am forever your work of art! (I wrote this two years ago.)
Posted on: Fri, 21 Jun 2013 04:11:18 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015