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Dies Irae Dies Illa

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Heavy suicidal ideation, self harm topics and attempts of suicide ahead.

Read with caution.

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"... auribus teneo lupum ..."





The wind screamed in your ears.


You clutched your ringing head between your bloodied hands. Every nerve could feel the copious amounts of metallic liquid mix and mingle within your fur. The excess blood that didn't stain your pelt had started to slowly drip down onto the floor, one torturous drop at a time.


Artificer had hurt you. You had hurt others. And those invaders had hurt your entire village. 


Everything was just a cycle of endless violence, one that you have contributed to gleefully. The image of those corpses would never leave your mind.

Your hands still gripped that dented spear, still coated in blood and brain-fluid. Your psychopathic, heretical thoughts hadn't thought of letting go of it yet.

Images of what you could do to your own body flooded your mind like The Rain after a cycle.

You would love to kill yourself, you'd love to sink that spear into your neck and end that aching hole of guilt rooted deep inside your chest. Your hands were more than willing to suddenly twist around your head and end your pathetic existence.

Maybe you'd draw it out for as long as possible, make the pain something only a worthless lump of skin and bone like you would deserve.

But ultimately, even if your cowardly nature would allow it, what would be the point? You'd just come back, no matter how bad you'd mutilate yourself. No matter how far you'd jump, or how many limbs you'd dismember.

You'd wake up at a shelter.


Again, and again and again. 


Cursed to forever bear this guilt. 

Forced by your own hand to enact penance upon your unholy body. 


Over, and over and over.


The Cycle would just repeat, leaving you stuck in this hellhole, alone and scared. 


There's nobody left to comfort you, to tell you it's going to be ok anymore.


Because they're dead and they're gone and they're not coming back.


A croaked and broken, "Why?" spilled from your tight throat. Tears bubbled up within your eyes, and breathing came in erratic spurts.

"Why does this world hate me?"

Why couldn't it all just be peaceful like The Surface? Why must evil and hate exist in a world where harmony and peace are the steps forward?

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