tw// dark imagery of death and murder
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Jackson."
Those were the words Mrs. Jackson had heard all week while she mourned her daughter's untimely death. Her daughter who had been murdered.
But now, as she stood staring directly into the face of her daughter's killer, she felt no despair. She observed the murderer's cruel angular face, the straight curve of their jaw, and eyes of piercing steel and merciless shadow. Steel like the unforgiving knife, that which pierced the soft flesh of her young daughter's throat, as if she were a mere block of wood; that carved her up like a statue of misery, and left her to languish in her own blood. Dark as the shadows that which crept up along the sides of the room when her daughter had shed her last ounce of life; and was carried away to the stars in a chariot of ash and misery. This person, this monster, at whom Mrs. Jackson could do nothing but stare at in agony, looked back at her with a paralleled expression. It had taken not only everything she had but everything she was. For what are you if not the light you bring to others, and that which they bring to you? Is one anything at all if there is nothing in the world left for one to love?
Mrs. Jackson allowed herself to spare one final glance at the murderer. The murderer of her light, of her sweet girl.
Then silently, she turned away from the mirror.
"I'm sorry Miss. Jackson," she murmured to herself.
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~ ♥️ 𝒫𝒽𝑜𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓍 ♥️ ~ 𝓅𝑜𝑒𝓂𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈
Poezja𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔀𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓷𝓲𝔁, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓷𝓭.. Hi loves! This is my first post, a short collection of some of my favorite poems and short stories written by me. I will be adding to it as I think of...
