The Alpha King's Weakness [On Hold]

TWENTY

I keep trying to subtly kill myself with a pen and words but I think the obituary of stanzas and one lined metaphors are too soft;
I want slammed casket lids, sobs dancing on lips, the awkwardness of depression and similes on one's tongue, I want to make an impact but I know this isn't the way to do it;
I don't want a gentle ending;
I want to go off as if I were a firework (beautiful but explosive);
A poetry death for an illiterate life— I want to find peace in the same symbolism and personification of my dead soul that gave me such turmoil in the first place;
These pages are too nice for me, I want something a little rougher and ink-stained.
-S.N.S

I am sorry for waiting so long to update. Although it's no excuse, there have been so many horrible things in my life going on and it's hard to keep track of my days. It's like I'm in an unending loop of pain after pain and it's exhausting. I feel like I am losing time at an unfair pace.
I just want a donut. Preferably chocolate. Chocolate understands.
But don't fret!
I already have the next two chapters in my drafts that I'll be slowly chipping away at and getting them ready to publish.

I love you all, my potatoes! Enjoy.

3rd POV

CHAPTER TWENTY:
DEATH BREEDS DEATH, WAR PT.1

Renee gazed around the field, her stance tensed and her mind ready for the worst.

Leaves cut through the sun's rays and stained the ground with broken light but no one seemed to mind.

People and noises clustered together.

Everyone was preparing a last-minute thing—sharpening their weapons, making lethal potions, crafting arrows, stretching, visiting with those not fighting in the war.

Everyone was doing something different but they all had the same expression: solemn heartbreak.

They were saying goodbye without saying it.

Showing their love without speaking.

Everyone knew that some of them won't be seeing their mates, their families, and their home again.

And they knew that if they did return, they wouldn't be the same. Death changes people.

This is war and it's terrifying.

It's terrifying, not only because an evil man decided to do something bad— to obtain power he didn't deserve— and not because it was violent or sad or anything else.

It's terrifying because good people get hurt the most, it's terrifying because those lost are always felt more by the ones not fighting on the front lines or the ones left behind when the only blood left dripping is off of stained hands instead of wounds.

Casualties of war are felt more by the innocent than any other.

Death breeds death.

And in war, innocent blood is always spilled first.

Looking over her Uncle's pack, her pack, Renee sees the warriors' tight expressions— even as they get surrounded by their lovers and children and mothers and siblings— they're all prepared to die.