Riding On The Wings of a Bloody *** of Crows

I finally understand what it means to be sad. What it feels to be breathless, watching everything run away from you down the same path you chose to follow. I didn’t see the crossroads, someone had kicked the signpost down. I dressed for the sun and didn’t bring an umbrella for the days when it rains.

The dark used to be safe but now it brings the monsters under my bed and the shadows of evil on my walls. I live for the day but I die for the night. The amount of nothing left behind by the sun surrounds me and consumes me. It scares me.

I’m not strong enough to get up and check in my closet, turn on the light. I’ll lie there in the uncertainty and absorb the memories. Letting my breath flutter above me, searching for freedom. I tighten the scarf another notch, if I can’t be free than neither can my soul. I can hear the whispering calling me selfish but I just don’t want to be left alone.

The blinding light of another failed attempt makes my heart stutter and falter, surprised at it’s own strength. The burning when I gasp reminds me of the battle. This is too hard, I can’t win. I don’t want to win. I stretch out my fingers, uncluring the tendons that have stayed clenched for so long. Grasping my last piece of hope, drawing it across my damaged packaging. Beauty springs from within where it has been hiding for 6 years, afraid of being seen and afraid of being judged.

I am no longer scared. I will no longer fail. Life needs polishing and making new again, I can’t see my reflection anymore. It’s time to crumple up this piece of paper and start again. A new story with a new character. Because all I am is a work of fiction, moulded out of whispered words and forgotten lives.