yvemgeshka

CH. II - Tea Cake

"She's human."

"Small and hateful."

"Sweet too?"

"Too bitter, her hate covers her good

like honey should cover poison;

she's doing it wrong."

It was true, nobody fought more (wars) than Natelle & it made her bitter like all other men.

But she was no man.

As a result, her anger is unacceptable. Nobody likes angry women.

All highly respected men are furious,

though.

A point to highlight, one of interest, to respect.

Natelle probably wanted respect & she sees all the angry hot-headed men being respected. She thought anger was the key.

So she, a small girl filled her blood with fury & raged red, hot fury. Raged at all she knew.

Too bad the key to respect was being a man.

Good thing she knows now.

Covered in ash and scorn;

CH. I - Never Share

How could we they ever think we'd they'd be so successful in our endeavors?

- Febrile we they are, as mortals; fallible & error-prone. Almost never accomplishing of what we they say. Terrible beings,

terrible, we they are.

Nonetheless, I could not ever be grouped in along with such ones that aren't worth even speaking of us; such imperfection.

We'll never share.

For they are deathbound,

I am divine, while they are damned.

- That's what the haughty believe and ponder on about. What they do not think about is how death is a release; Perhaps the most feared release in the history of man's existence.

- "We die but we are forever powerful, how?"

"Dust we come from and to dust we will return. Ashes, debris, and dust remain forever and consume all things!"

I, Victor.

I gave up my life to the drug,

my drug,

Mylene.

When I first saw her, it was magic. Drawn in by her, to say the least, intriguing, aura.

Like a moth to a flame... the strongest attraction I've ever felt. Oh, and the pull.

I couldn't stop myself from trying to get closer to her flame, her heat. Helpless I was... the night I met her.

And even after our encounter, when I went to lay down my head to rest. I had these breathtaking dreams of her.

Lucidly, her aura has absorbed me and melted into my mind and the was nothing I could do but think of her. Constantly.

She was my all, my only. My first and final girl.

From meeting her, I wanted to throw myself at her feet and serve her in anyway she pleased. She could hurt me and I'd be happy. She could treat as nothing and I'd take it.

She could force me to die the most disgusting, disturbing, disrespectful death and I'd be honored to do it for her.

I'd be a man at her disposal, just her man.

I couldn't control myself, even in my own head. But I wouldn't ever try to control her. I'd let her live free, like she was meant to.

While my life would be dictated by her and her every move.

I worried day and night: 'What could she be doing at the hour?', 'Was she okay?', 'Does she love me?', 'Am I worthy of such a great love?'

It was my duty to worry. It was my duty to live for her. I'm not in control. Never was I. She was and shall always be.