You grow old and weary. Clouded with the blood you have spilt.
Your once perfectly smooth, clear complexion has wavered and sagged.
The invisible shield you provide is weakening.
Not long now and you will no longer separate me from that which I long to be one with.
You made me ache. Showed me exactly what I was missing, clear as day, and, as if to rub salt in my already bleeding wounds, you project my image onto it. Show me what it would be to run, to feel.
But you grow old. I long to break free.
One day. One day I will smash through the cruel walls of your deceitful prison.
I will win.
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@rachrocksdotcom
I am innocent. I just observe the corrupted.
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Comments & Feedback (3)
I've been watching you grow up (not literally) but this is by far best in your horror! Bravo. Now question time! Do think I should write something different things then horror?
@Suffersong It depends what you feel comfortable writing. Your horrors are amazing and I think whatever else you wrote would be too.
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