No Angels Await Us

14 1 0
                                    

It hurt me in my heart, it hurt me so much. Watching her familiar intence eyes of intellect looking back into mine that look just the same. Knowing that this will be her very last breaths to ever grace this world. Her pure light of innocense, illuminating the whole atmosphere of which is polluted by the filth of this world that aint her. The red caresses the pale white of her skin, a recognizable breeze grasping through her beautiful hair that is the same as mine, ringing the bell of times. Oh how the crimson red clashed to her magnificant carmine lips. The pale of her lashes, calm to the roots of her purple eyelids. Framing the very life of the windows of existance. She is slipping away in the very arms of which she was once birthed into, coming to life with the lie of a promise of good, dangling in an invisible line infront of her. She whisperes with her last breaths, leaving me tearstained and tinted with ivorywhite, eyes just as tragic and restless red as her crimson, laced with fear and regret as I lean in to her wet carmine lips, as she spoke my very last words with small gasps to my corrupted ear. So unfamiliar and so very contrary to the first she ever whispered to my unworthy beating eardrums, yet... so memorable to the smooth of her voice as her dry tongue speak to my ear one last time.
"You cant await the golden gates of the sky, for They are too far away. You cant await the angels to come and get me, for They will Rip me to pieces. Im too late, Im too weak for the trip. I missed my shot, I wont see the face of my creator for he dont want the ugly of mine. Its too late now, but dont worry I will be fine. Stop your crying and get away, the bullets are closing in. You need me nomore, you need me never more. I am done and I didnt reach the victoryline of which the road is to end. There is No time nomore, there is no redemtion, No remedy nor mercy when youre brought to the knees of creation. There is No light, No last breath of calm... only cold and bitterness and curiosity. Its bittersweet, I promise you that, but its cold and dark and scary. Its dragging and clawing at your back, leaving marks, making me forget all I have learned ever since the day of my making. I forget How to move, How to speak and soon How to breath. Im being pulled back by my very own bones to the dawn of beginning, and the beginning is cold mom. The angels dont want me at their gate, the light wont show itself for my naked eyes that lay exposed for the light to come. You must leave me to the earth as dark and simple as it is, my time has come for there is No stopping it. Stop your crying and get a move on, its not to late for you to reach the stars of every mans dream. We havent spoke since you went away, the sound of comfort is a killing silence. Oh mother of mine, get up off the ground. Im merely a blink of an eye of time, and my time has come. Get up and deal with it, I am No longer in the comforting hands of yours, Im letting him take the controll, its my turn to take a leap into the unknown. You have to run, run for your life and never look back into the eye of death, for a single glance is all Im granting you. Its too cold and way too dark, No angels will come for your rescue, They do not excist for this world. We do not deserve them, We deserve the darkness and the bittercold and the loneliness to come as our eyelids wraps shut around our eyes one last time. Stop your crying and get up off the ground that was solemnly made ment for men, the devils are knocking"
The loud of the commotion closing in on us has me frozen still, the knifesharp bloodred yelling of men are filling the thick air. The airborn birds collide with the sky as the tonguetied men of pride bare the will of him. The stars fade away as the atmosphere is turned dark as night. Making the world, just as my girl, dark and cold and dead, laced in pain and covered in a mercyless calm. The painlaced screams of others around me like a symphony compared to the cruelty of reality and unjustice, laying infront of me, exposed and calm, in the arms that once were made only for her.

The Pity Of Reality CheckWhere stories live. Discover now