From once was yours, From once was Mine
A misty rain descends upon my location, the brim of my hat collecting deep deposits of water, despite the melancholy weather, the sky I observe looks so marvellous and serene, each droplet of rain are as virtuous and incandescent as an angel’s tears. In all its magnificence how can something so alluring be in such an abominable reality? A reality I have had many hopes for. Looking over the city Landscape a significant amount of unfamiliar memories of sentiment return to my consciousness…
A house filled with several warming amenities, a child clinging to the dress of a Middle aged woman who lies in a coffin. Fate burdened the boy in turn leaving him in pure solitude until she rescued him, being his stability through times of deep anguish. Flakes of tender snow settle on the pavement, Blossom trees engulfed in ice shimmering brightly in the Moons peer, the newly set white carpet began to sparkle like a beacon conveying the hopes and wishes of long forgotten lost souls. Nothing could ruin this moment. My eyes caught glance of an eerie alleyway seemingly leading into nothingness, inside the darkness a Woman removes her clothes, on the rumpled pile of garments the child rests and beside him against the jagged wall the woman provides her body as a source of warmth for the boy. The surrounding existence is silent, even while I can hear clearly what the Women is saying. There is a feeling, an undeniable sinking pain in my chest reminding me there is no pain equal to that caused psychologically. A pain you cannot control. A pain that thrives on isolation. A pain that changes you. Pain like this can only be eased by a soul that understands your torment; unfortunately I have yet to meet someone who knows what is it like. I cannot afford to show emotion to anyone for if I cry no one else will get to, this is my burden. My repressed