Tag Archives: broken

Waves by Nina D’Arcangela @Sotet_Angyal #pained #horror #prose

Trapped within this bubble, I feel nothing of the arid landscape that surrounds me. I sit in subjugation, offered scraps to feed upon; amuse-bouche for the soul, or so I imagine. Apportioned morsels to sustain me, but never more than your callous ego will allow. Yes, I have licked the plate and the tang has seared my tongue, left a residue of shame that will forever taint my palate. I once soared with as much grace and majesty as the prey that circles overhead – a dangerous companion to adopt, folly perhaps, as I know what it awaits.

Freedom, such a simple thing, stolen from me by destiny’s choice; a truth mourned beyond measure. I was vibrant once, as vibrant as the now desiccated tree before me. I see its brittle limbs, its exposed bones; the crack that foretells of the next fractured moment. I live that moment with every breath, forever caught just before the fall, perpetually suspended in a state of flux. With bowed back, I am forced to genuflect, to stare into a shallow pool that lacks reflection; a me without identity, stripped of all dignity. With broken wings, I stagnate in this cage never to glide on lighter waves of air again.

© Copyright Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.
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Decay

All things born must eventually die, withering in decay. What is the value of living if there is no risk of loss? What is the joy to be gathered from the most beautiful smile if it might never fade? What is the ecstasy of being if not eventually to be undone?

There is still beauty in decay. Pain to be clutched, tears to be licked, madness to be grasped and devoured. All things with breath must twist in torment, scream in agony and pain, heave a final sigh when crushed below the heel of perfection.

A blossom that has bloomed must wilt. Laughter heard on the breeze fades to silence. Brightness tarnishes with time.

Time kills all things of beauty, time and the beauty that exists within it. Destiny sees to its demise. One thing certain in this found life, time will see it trampled to ruin.

But time does not bear all the blame. For time will only do with it what you will. When that time has been shattered, there is only one other to thank, and I thank this other fully. Knowing her like no other, wishing not to know her at all, living this life in a decrepit box, who else could be to blame? Yes, I speak of me.

My choices all, made with only one regret – time. A vicious circle, this I know as well. Disbelief, shocking pain, trembling in fear – broken, always broken, never unbroken.

I am to blame for all that has decayed, all I have allowed to wither, all I have wished for that has wilted – the blossom trampled before its time. Time’s accomplice truth; wielded as my weapon, held weak as my shield, ignorance in believing… but the believing of immeasurable worth, the cost: only yet one more piece torn away. I give it willingly; I cherish its meaning and cannot diminish its loss with regret.

Time I thought to lay the blame upon, but time was only doing its lot. I am all that is left to blame, so I thank myself for all that may have been lost.


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