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╰┈➤ You can't make something last forever.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Just like an injured charmony dove, he can no longer fly. All that's left is to lie down and accept this twisted fate of his. He wanted to apologize for making his sister cry. He wanted to tell his mother just how much he loved her, but will he get to do that before he destroys himself? Will he get to see his sister smile before the end? Will he ever feel comforted?
"I wish I could."
Sunday's weak voice croaks. He accepts his fate, his wings dirtied and his piercing bleeding. His wings, wrapped so neatly around his frame, fall loose from beneath his clothes, no longer able to hold themselves up. He rests in the dirt, feeling as though he is one with the earth. He is naught but a speck of dirt. He just wanted to protect everyone, to keep their side filled with green grass— but now, that flourishing garden is dead.
All he can do is lie in his failures as the shame consumes him alive. He feels as though his head has been infected with shame, guilt, and fear. He just wanted to see everyone's heartfelt smiles, free of pain, free of agony. He never hungered for power. He just wanted freedom— something he never got to experience. He wanted to see his sister, safe and happy, free of anguish and suffering. But now all he is left as is humiliated.
Sunday has failed everyone and anyone that ever placed their hope into him. Their faith crumbled in his hands, dying even as his tears attempted to water them and revive them. He cannot put flowers on their graves. He cannot comfort anyone, let alone himself. He cannot stop himself from crying. He feels hopeless. He lost everything and everyone, all that was left was to sit there, left gutted and seething with zero closure.
In the end, all he had done was twist himself into a knot until his bones just could not handle the pressure. There was always a massive distance between himself and others; why didn't he see it sooner? He would never be like them. The normal people that could frolic and play like regular humans, smiles on their faces.
He cries, but he cannot bring himself to redeem himself. He's drowning and suffocating in shame, no longer left with buried anger. He is just sad. That was all he ever was.
When he chose to set that dove free, did he doom it to death? When he tried to set the world free, did he doom them as well? Did he doom himself trying to save everyone?
The green garden that was once everyone's utopia is now rotten. Decay hangs in the air, and Sunday's tears cannot revive it any longer. His heart wretches and pounds, but all he can do is croak out a soft whine for mercy as he curls in on himself. The Dreamscape is collapsing all around him, and for once in his life, he feels free. He thinks of the warm embrace of a painless death, and suddenly, he feels okay. He doesn't think about why he should save himself, but he thinks about his sister. He thinks about her because it is the only right thing he'll ever do.
