The tears dry on my dark grey fur as I remember being attacked by alpha. I turned and sulked away after the fight. As I transform, I have already begun to run off to sit on the hill with the white barked trees, the golden autumn leaves and the tender crispness of fall air. I let sorrow and shame wash over my solitary mind as I use my right claw to dig into my already scarred and bloodied skin.
"It couldn't hurt...right? It's not like the pack treasures a lame wolf."
I push the gleaming claw further into my skin, cringing from the momentary pain then my expression shifts to bliss from the stinging incision I've made to my arm. My tears fall faster and harder the ever, realizing I was a lone wolf trying to fit into a pack whose goals were not the same as mine. Of course my pseudo pack hates my existence, I was never a true member.
"Why was I born this way. Why am I here. What is my purpose?"
As I sob, darkness washes over my tired mind as a silky comforting voice whispers into my tattered ear,
"Never more shall you live, for you are dead. Quoth the raven, nevermore. Thou hast left that world, enjoy your eternity in peace. This voice, which is I, shall always be here for thee. Please trust me and you will see the truest point for your past being's torture."
As the field returns to my blurred sight, I watch my former pack mates whimper over my now pale, limp body. The alpha is strong and displays this characteristic as she kisses both of my closed eyelids. I cover my mouth in shock as I realize,
"I am dead. No way to return. Why must life be so cruel?"
The voice, known by me as IO, cackled softly as if it were watching my glossy, fading grey eyes look up at him in confusion and fear. My last breath fades as my sight and memory go black. My soul seemingly disappeared into the depths of his cold red eyes. The one phrase echoes through my mind and soul as I felt myself fade away into the nothingness.
'Quoth the raven, nevermore'
Panting, I sharply sat up in my bed and wiped the tears from my pale cheeks. Remembering the dream vividly as I pull out my little silver friends. I contemplate in making more incisions upon my arm. As I lightly draw them across my skin as if to cause more scars. Without thinking I press as hard as my strength can muster, and watch the warm, red, metallic liquid leak from my new wounds. My thoughts growing faint as I say a final goodbye to this world. I see the figure of a man and as he laughs maniacally, I feel as if my soul is to be consumed by the figure formerly known as IO. Though I know, IO is commonly known as the god we praise, I only plead the black web known as the hand of death caresses my being before my impending consumption.
Wouldn't you agree that religion just a cruel lie we tell ourselves to avoid fearing the unknown?
YOU ARE READING
Poems from beyond the grave...
שירהMainly poetry. Some thoughts and maybe a few song lyrics that I write.
