Thoughts of a Loner.

La Carta. (By Sapphirus)

He writes this letter in the cold muffling silence,
The paper crumbled as his life,
Evident to it's horrors and struggles unaccounted,
As he scribbles the texts of what remained of his former self,
He was strong once,
A fortress of resistance against the storms of agony,
Within resided those who he honoured as,
"Mi Familia~"
As he braved the darkest corners of the world,
Fought against the raging tides washing his soul away,
Purifying in a way as he saw,
For decades he took risks and tortured his soul,
Strangled the dreams that once offered him life,
With an emotionless smile on his face,
Only to protect those he loved,
Only them,
Each scar and each bleeding wound was a testament,
Testament to his commitment and devotion,
Unyielding,
Yet now only the scars have stayed,
Only the scars have stayed.

He writes this letter in the cold muffling silence,
Questioning his decisions as the moon smiled upon his weary gaze,
He gave up everything without a question in sight,
His strength,
His hope,
His very essence of life as his sanity,
Yet they loathed him after those sacrifice,
"How could they?"
Yet he tried to remain unflappable,
As consternation kissed him on the neck,
Stabbing at the same instant,
They banished him and threw him into endless abyss,
In their eyes he was not a saviour,
Oh he was the Angel outcasted,
The pain of their dismissal carved a betrayal so deep,
It felt like the end of golden sunshine to him.

He writes this letter in the cold muffling silence,
His heart once a beacon of warmth and unwavering love,
Now a barren wasteland desolated to anything loving,
Betrayal sliced his neck as he struggled for a gasp of air,
He wrestled with wrath and kicked and kicked to free himself,
As anxiety kept on suffocating him with a smile on her face,
Crushed by the mountain of loneliness,
Each night a horror in sheer agony,
As he questioned his worth and his very existence,
"Why the fuck did I do so much for those ungrateful?"
The faces of those he cared for,
Now nothing but depictions of monsters in fables,
A haunting reminder that he lost himself.

He writes this letter in the cold muffling silence,
As the stillness of exile calmed his mind,
A flicker of understanding now burning within,
"Perhaps it was better this way,"
He would exclaim as looked above the shimmering stars,
As the lethal hatred was long cured,
He held not a though for vengeance,
His love for them remained,
"I hope they are well,"
He would say,
Care pure and untouched by the darkness that long consumed his conscience,
He realised that his sacrifice,
Was not in vain,
Although it shattered his very being,
He found a twisted solace resting within their safety.

He writes this letter but not in despair,
He writes this letter in firm acceptance,
A forgotten piece of himself still longing for the lost light,
For something to bring him joy,
A smile,
A mere reason to live free of the clutches of his haunting past,
In the quiet moments he reminisce the man before the storm,
His origin,
His heart still scared from the blows of past,
Yet it beats with a faint hope,
A reminder to his self that in darkness and sheer abyss,
Light can still be found in specks.

~ Sapphirus