This Is Not What I wanted:
But I cannot stand this pain anymore
I try to pretend and act like whoever expects,
I have no respect for humanity,
My arms are spread on the floor
my arms are spread on the floor, as I am weeping because I keep a secret, I am a demon, I am bad luck everything I touch turns into black, my soul and heart are the blackest of blacks.
I just want to forget my life,
Wishing and hoping for a better day
ignoring all the things people tell,
the blackness of fear takes over my thoughts
I try to fight this darkness, but it is in vain.
But I cannot tell the truth to anyone because everything around me is black.
Obsidian is the place where I am today.
Raven is the blood that seeped into the sand.
Somber is the reason that I am no, longer hurting, how I bare all the unspoken truths in my mind,
I have no regrets,
Because Black is my soul.
୧︵. ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ⟢ ⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ .︵୨
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Every border is a wound that never quite healed.
Every nation has a voice - quiet, aching, and human.
They laugh, they love, they destroy, they rebuild.
And somewhere in between all that, they reach for you.
Here, nations are more than lines on a map.
They bleed, they yearn, they remember.
Some will hold your hand as if it were peace itself.
Some will break you just to see if you'll stay.
Are such cruel beings even capable of love?
To love after what they've done, after what they've destroyed?
Can hands once stained with conquest ever touch softly again?
Can a country that has bled others learn what it means to ache?
A countryhuman oneshot book.
▬▬
Closed. (for now)
୧‿̩͙ ˖︶ ꕀ⠀ ⟢ ⠀ ꕀ ︶˖ ‿̩͙୨