The burning lights of the stage ...that's what I remember the most , the people were all silhouettes created by the very lights that served to illuminate me on this platform . My world began and ended within the confines of the opera house . People poured in to come see me but I myself could not see them . It sounds a bit selfish I'll admit but I just couldn't bring myself to acknowledge them , not from a lack of appreciation for their patronage but from a more isolated perspective . My songs ..the words themselves were crafted carefully for only one person's ears and anyone else who happened to hear them were merely receiving the echoing run off from the true emotions that I put into them . Everyday I put on that dress and stood under those burning lights pouring out my soul for a person who couldn't hear my words , the songs were a plea to whatever gods were listening a pitiful offering to bring back the person I so desperately wished to see again and yet whose face I couldn't even remember . Time to time I found myself questioning my own sanity , a fool who mourns those she can't remember and seeks vengeance on someone she knows nothing about . A caged bird who sings for the sake of moving forward and yet is chained by the very nature of her own existence ...or something along those lines . In reality my situation is far less poetic than I make it out to be another sob story for the masses and fuel for my ever growing fan base . My body moves and my mouth opens yet I have no say in this tireless pattern of repetition I wake and I sleep all in pursuit of some spark that will reignite my will to live and carry on . "ab SOPIO ad te amica mea a dis esse ut et aures deliniens ad te et requiem animae tuae" the people clap and cry they reach out and claim to resonate with my requiem but that can't be, some may have experienced worse or others less but no one has been in my own shoes there isn't a soul alive that can understand the lyrics meant for the dead . But there is one ...a single person who I wish to help understand the pain and release death allows ...a new melody will be created from the cries of his anguish spurred on by his own sins , I wonder how well the people will enjoy the song brought forth by pure hatred ...guess we'll see . on one of my most recent performances a weird sight happens to catch my eyes . Instead of an empty shadow I saw a girl , she cried like most everyone else in the room but her tears were not the result of my own words . Instead the source of her tears was the man next to her , a wicked smile graced his face and his hand squeezed her arm tight a possessive action by any standards "ah " i thought to myself , another caged bird like me but this one has no voice." That night I took the liberty of giving the man a private encore performance , I allowed him to join in my singing a harmony created only when ones painful screams resonate with my own mourning whales . I gave him the honor of being his personal banshee as I cried out for his death with him I alone crafted his obituary knowing full well no one else would mourn his passing . From time to time I see that girl at my performances she is no longer a caged bird like me . Sometimes I think about it , my life wasn't supposed to be filled with this much red at least I don't think it was ..how long ago was it that I was happy ?now the only thing that brings me feeling is freeing those who still have a chance to spread their wings , I remember the first time it happened . It was just after I had been through my own hell and was trying to forget more than I was already made to . There was a couple kids who were passing by my show , they held their tickets with such excitement I couldn't help but smile a little ...but like most fleeting moments it was soon replaced by the dread that now was a permanent resident in my mind . The kids were pulled along by some people who I assumed to be their parents ..but I was mistaken . The sounds I heard next from the alley over were those of unspeakable origin . I wandered over to see what was happening since no one else seemed to bat an eye at the occurrence and for lack of a better description of what I saw was the truest form of evil . I can't remember much else but I do recall singing a song during the event that followed , I do believe they have yet to full cleanse the crimson stains off the walls of that alley and the murderer responsible for the killings is yet to be apprehended . I do however know the children from the incident have permanent reserved seats in the hall and I see them quite often . I think about it a lot ...the consequences of what may happen if my special performances were to come to light , but really that's then and this is now . If the people of this world condemn me for my actions while the people I bring to justice are aloud to walk free then there really is no hope for this place .
YOU ARE READING
Crimson melodies
FantasyThe tail of kiomi is not one of a happy girl , quite to the contrary it's based entirely off the remains of her memory shattered and twisted ideals that are now the very core of her every day life .