The Razor's Edge
- Reads 302
- Votes 3
- Parts 12
You like how this feels?... god... you've got a concussion, sixteen broken bones, all located around your torso... hell... I can see one of your ribs splintering out....
And yet... you can't get enough... can you?... you've got so much free space... and you want every... single... inch... filled...
Whether it's lacerations, burns, bruises, you don't care... do you?.... tsk.... sometimes... I wish I couldn't heal you....
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#353
literate
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Moments; singular, siphoned, like grains of sand which fall restlessly, and build without limits...growing with increasing momentum, each step, beat, a steady staccato , marking down the minutes until the cold inevitability of the ...end ...death. Moments...it's all anyone has. Life is a false illusion. Death is cold reality. I am a Treader. I deal in the currency of death, and I know everything there is to know about it's cold worth. I am useful, never loved. I am used, never thanked. I am need, want, and lust....but never needed or wanted. I am never fulfilled. I am never to know human happiness. I have accepted my designed fate. Why then am I being tested now?? What will happen if I give in to the temptation I know will be my undoing? What will happen if I give in...and love? What will my failure bring...and may those above and below have mercy on all souls, for when the Treader of death falls for life... Worlds End. RH*Mature Content*Advisable only for 18 and over
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