9 October 2012
Birth the time of imagination: what may this baby become? A world out there that needs its throat grabbing; a world out there that needs changing; a world out there that needs its eyes drying. Held in the arms of the creator, descriptive words label it vile. Held in the arms of its creator, only words of beauty flow out. The 2 sides of the coin being addressed: what if he does not become something to be proud of?
3 years later, first encounter with terror - a face so common over future years, the outline would remain scarred on the very skin of the soul. The damage is being done.
Years and years pass; the scar continues to grow, gaining depth with every mental incision. 18 years since the first breath - the 1st of only 2 breaks in the paired breathing rule - intelligence has grown at a hindrance in many ways. Empathy surrounds the outline of the trench some may call a scar, like a moat around a castle - only to protect what's within. The monster. The other side. The 2nd side of the coin flipped at birth. Never to be tamed or banished.
Kept within a cage. All is mostly peaceful. A gentleman amongst heartache, ready to lend a shoulder. The war of life pounding a jackhammer upon the surface of his confused heart. His true emotions kept in a cage next to the beast; a broken heart can't help mend another; there's no such thing as cut-n-shut in this game. A fallen tear can't help wipe away another; the Atlantic does not make desert out of the Pacific.
Who helps the helper? Who leaves gifts under Santa's tree? No one. A silent shot kills their spirit; demons use the open wound to enter and torture the soul. Their work for others: a hand across their mouth. Others constantly needing them: hands in cuffs behind their back.
For some help isn't always enough. God screaming down from the heavens their time is not now. Inhaling their last breath, their eyes enter their mind to view their life in its entirety. Reasons why explained; numerous broken hearts, reasons' why they shouldn't. And then there's the one: the one that flashes past their eyes thats mission was to prevent this. Mission failed for him. His heart was already broken - but somehow the pieces now manage to shatter into grains of sand. Sand that's pouring through a timer: a timer dictating when his brain should tell his heart to stop beating.
The most painful and bittersweet emotion of all: empathy. His love and care so strong he understands why you had to make the great escape. Some see it as a selfish act - a cowards way out; he see's it as an incredibly brave thing to do. Despite his empathy, blame still lurks in his every fibre. Why weren't his words enough? Why wasn't his shoulder enough? He will blame himself for the rest of his life, no matter how long or short it may be.
The event that never needed to happen: the funeral. Her father taking his daughter - the one whom he swore to protect - down the isle in a coffin rather than a wedding dress. They say the worst thing about getting old is watching your friends die. When this demon strikes upon the young, it's even worse. No life to look back on and say "they made the best of this"; only one to look at and say "what would have been? Why? Where did we go wrong?"
As the words of praise are sung at the beauty that now lies lifeless in a cold wooden box, thoughts are spawned about why these things were never said when she was here to hear it? Could they have prevented this?
As the casket sinks into the ground, pieces of the earth are sprinkled gently over the coffin, like the tiny pieces people's hearts' are now in. Until we all meet again, this is goodbye. Until we can all see if heaven is really overrated, this is goodbye.
God: the creator of life. Perhaps however, not the controller of life. Is that why this happens? Is that why there's so many tears falling in the world with no one there to wipe them away? Is that why there's so many people screaming in the world with no one there to fight the fear away? Is that why there's so many hands that need holding in the world?
So now I look back: what was, what might have been, why, and why I don't. The reasons evade my mind - they just touch my the fragments of my heart falling through the timer. Eyes that see what there's to loose; a soul that understands this. Nothing to loose, have no fear. This life, it's not a fair fight…
Fair Fight • Opuss № I