#plewae

And so I walked, with Its weight like an Iron Maiden on my shoulders, making me crookbacked like a fiend from untold Hells. I struggled with Its embrace, trying to free something from It and ending up consumed. My feet carried me like a corpse, my hands reaching out at every Hope... It was a jail of ice and blaze, and I declined from within for I was only a weak link in the Chain of Consequences.

If I sought repentance, would I be spared from this sorrow ? I had nothing more to achieve in this World of long gone opportunities. I wasted every chances. I ignored every fortune. Words of advice were worth nothing for the naive mind I was so proud of. I bragged about eyes open and clear, about fair judgement and understanding, without knowing how blind I was. And she, who was there before It all, followed me in silence, leaving her sorrowful gaze on my broad arrogant back.

She was the beauty of a newborn galaxy, bright and endless, soft and fearless. She kept me standing without a word, without reward. I did not deserve her. No one was worthy of her... And yet I took her for granted. I boasted to who would hear that she was mine and mine alone. That the Eternity in front of her belonged to me only. It was the preaching of a sinner. Who would have thought that, even as I proclaimed and pronounced, she was already fading behind me ?

In a nest she couldn't leave, like a small cocoon before the Great Awakening, she wanted to change things too big for her. She dreamed herself as a butterfly whose flight would temper Life in her image. She sighed and smiled and loved and died... and then remembered that it was all in her head. She could not fly. She could not change. She could only eat the food that was given to her, and that was already a lot compared to others.

Everything was provided for her. By the sacrifices of her Loved Ones, she could « live the life »... She couldn't complain. She had no right to want for more. And yet... She wanted to break out of this egg and grow feathers. They didn't have to be beautiful or colorful, they just had to be hers. If she had feathers, surely she could- she could- !

Nothing.

What was the use for feathers when she had no wings ? Keep her warm ? Protect her from the Elements ? She wanted so much more than that ! So what if she had no rights !? So what if she was already privileged !? She too wanted to stumble and rise up ! She too wanted to make mistakes and learn from them ! She too wanted- !

Your everything is hers. Your everything is hurt. Worshipping disgrace on the ground with prayers left unheard, you scream in a void made of your own lungs and bones. She's so pretty when she laughs, ethereal and enthralling, widening the tears seaming together the pieces of your sorry skull.

You get what you deserve for believing her white lies : there is no happiness in candies and cocktails. You should never have left your hearth open to sin, that kindling burns way too well. You should never have put her words into your veins. They clogged up the arteries around your heart, it cannot beat anymore. And as you struggle for breath, suffocating like a fish out of water, you don't understand why the air you need is killing you.

This isn't about love. This isn't about passion. And it won't be about life for much longer. She takes the place of the unbeating heart and empty lungs. She takes the place of reason and self-esteem. You are only worth what she sees in you. You don't exist outside of her gentle eyes. Kindness is a lie too, though. Too bad there is so much sugar in her venom, Doom seeming so sweet. You'll never let her go because she talks so softly, not even understanding that she's the one holding you. You could have had a proper hope and future, could have developed healthier habits... But the candy smiled at you, it's already too late for such petty things.

That she collects the salt on your cheekbones is a bitter irony. White powder for whiter powder... In the end, diamond is only a cosmetic : the true wealth is in the sugar.

You are sick, boy. Illness is you in a way that denies you purpose and identity. There is nothing out of the door, nothing out of her laughter. A cold bed and a familiar ceiling, that's all you know anymore. You remember having heard about a world, somewhere... But most of the time you don't. What's the sun ? What are love and fun ? You don't need words without meanings. And if the choirs sings about closure and healing, it's to no avail. The Voices can't reach you no more.

You make me sick, boy. I want to be more than you. Let me grow out of your corpse, with deep roots and a sturdy trunk. I won't covet pretty flowers anymore once I'm a towering tree. I'll be a beacon for the hopeless, a proof that healing has meaning. Lighting the way for lost fools like you, to safer shores and a cosy reef. So what if you tried ? And what if you're tired !? I am more than you in a way that speaks of who you truly are ! And because I want to, I will scream. Just because I want to, I'll be heard ! « Help me ! » I'll say with your voice so you can be reached !

But you keep me silent... You know what'll happen if I'm heard for real. You fear farewells and unknowns. You fear that if she leaves you behind, you'll stop moving. « So what if you go backward ? It's better than not going at all ! » you surely think...