Sullen

Innocence, benevolent curse, cruelty of cluelessness. Worst pain is the one you don’t realize, until you unravel the facades late. Facades, happy faces with a knife alleging it’s a toy. Never questioned the sharp edges until slits covered me and lacerations made patters. Not a stoic, but ignorant of what’s being done.

Wish if they were truly bodily crevices, as they’re preordained to heal, but I bled helplessly to my emotional wreck, no pieces of me, no fragments, but a traceless scattered dust. Not a person, a mere husk.

Black coat, dim eyes, dead inside. Rendered to an unscathed ossified core, guided by moral com of broken needles, comion I buried the moment I pledged their pain. Not sorry, never will be.

As I hear the devil, feel the poke of the trident that have slaughtered my fairies, I rejoice to the whisper, trading the weight of sins for screams filling the void inside of me. Not bothered of the end.

The divine berates my being, empties my existence of his presence, but sullen and malevolence I pick over the scene of angels that only witnessed, doing nothing, the moment I should’ve been saved. But now, no one shall be saved.

Not even, me.

*Image not mine*