Beautiful Ruin
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- Votes 20
- Parts 9
My butterfly. Watching you bask in the sun was like watching angels descend from heaven. The way your skin glowed like a river of chocolate gold. The way your big brown eyes watered. The way your beautiful lips stretched into a smile.
The sight rendered me insane. The doctors were right. I am mad. Watching you made me believe red is violet and that everything tasted of sugar and fucking plum. I am a mad, mad man.
I watched them take you away with one promise on my lips; I will unclip your wings and set you free. I will give you the sun and everything you want.
"Run butterfly run, soon I will catch you," he tells me.
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December twentieth is the day I remember being brought into the asylum for the first time. Like any typical psychopath, I screamed. I cried. I remember snatching the nurse's hair until she screamed and I was slapped into unconsciousness and thrown into the room. The only difference? I wasn't a psychopath. For the first few days, I would cry maniacally upon hearing any nurse go by, to catch one's attention and tell her that I wasn't insane. "That's exactly what an insane person would say" They said, unbothered and it was as if my fate rested in the mouldy walls of the Asylum. And I soon realized that there was no use fighting for my life now .Which brings me to the present day, another one that I'll mark in history with red. The day I met him.
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