nothing else but my heart's desire [COLLECTION] | FINISHED

Horror/Realisations - ORIGINAL PROSE

It comes as words flow through your mind, pulling together in just the right sequence, in such a way which sends a spark of horror through your body, mind, heart and soul, as this sinking feeling of something threatens to overwhelm you; you begin to find that the source of this pain, it is so deep within you, that it has become so intertwined with your insides, you had lost track of the moment you had become so unaware of the thing you, now, cannot, for the life of you, avert your gaze from. It haunts you, consumes your every waking moment as you go through the motions, as each stage of grief passes through you, as though the ghostly figure of your existence has become a state of passive action, enabling horrors to attack constantly, all at once, all the time. It inspired a wave of anger, long after the source of this new-found rage has grown, matured, supposedly learned their lesson, but how can we know? How can I know, and how can my anger become vindicated as each enlightened individual only seeks to encourage a selfish form of live and let go, of forgiveness, allowing your anger to simmer, to settle until it boils over as anger does, as it shall always do, as in its very nature? And now I have lived with these horrors for years, but it seems each new day my mind seeks to forget as I fall into dreams strange and surreal, forcing the weight of existence upon my weary mind each morning as I am forced awake by obligations. I want to find a moment's breath, away from the true nature of existence as only the unlucky few can see, as all others walk with rose-coloured glasses, no matter how distorted they become as life breaks them in two.