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I am only safe in the shadows, where nobody can hurt me. They can't even see me. But I am here, silently; secretly. They don't know I am here. But I exist. Do I exist? My cries are so quiet that even my sensitive hearing is unacknowledged of its presence. Nor my presence; perhaps it is simply nonexistent. All I know is-do I know?-that I only exist, if I do, if I ever did, in the shadows.
I feel weightless, slowly gliding down. I open my eyes to pure darkness. It is swallowing me whole, and I feel safe; safe within my own secrets. My past haunts me but I know something hidden so far within my sub-consciousness will never come back to hurt me. I let the shadows envelop my mind and keep me safe from the light, the light of truth.
My heart feels as if it is explosive, the rush of adrenaline is attempting to burst through my veins. I let it escape and from the darkness of my black heart brings forth more darkness, and I smile. Letting my shadows manifest across my pale skin, it tears through my back, through said skin, and the blood pours. It pools onto nothing, lazily circling into the dark nothingness. I watch my red blood pass by my blood red eyes, as my wings of shadows; darkness; death extend beautifully. I am the manipulator of shadows; Angel of Death. As the last drop falls, I close my eyes to sleep eternally.
In the shadows.
- by acetonicAce |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 04/23/2012 |
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