Wiktoria. A Northern Tale. Part III

I have been on the other corner of existence

From a faraway land, far away from reason

I stepped on the shore, and stayed for a while

I have a letter for you, old soul,

I first hope that the ink i will let flow won’t affect you as much as a falling leaf,

Sole tree in the middle of a belligerent wind

Dead after losing her children in front the wrath of fall

I am here, sadly enough, a resident of this planet

The first step on this gray sand made me think of you

You were the reason why i have headed for the other realm

The confession is short indeed and it is as follows,

I am chained to this material world against my will for the lord’s will is much greater

I am chained inside my cell

A cell made of flesh

I am crying out my own sorrow and lack of might,

I couldn’t take the flight. To flee from reality. For i fear what i am willing to encounter

I only know one side of you, whereas i don’t know its stand amongst the multitude of your ethereal nature

Here i write to you and i ignore the reality of my urge

The urge to reach out despite the knowledge that the hardship of real life is no fun

I am writing and while in the near future i have to embrace the long walls of the outer world

A world that keeps my presence steps away from the absence of pride

The absence of pride that is leaving life behind and to never look back

I am writing to you whereas my intention is to make you aware of the existence of such a mind

Somewhere a mind had to think about you from time to time

I am writing to you ignoring the outcome of such a reckless action

I ask the heavens forgiveness if i had shaken the borders of reality again

I am but a lamented soul

A soul that has to act out till the last flame disappears

Death is a reminder indeed

That all of this is not a game

Let me be the inmate of my own despair

Let what was left of the kindness, I hold inside against its will, touch your tender soul

Let me disappear after reaching out to you

A silent symphony was playing in the background

Snow and long trees

A Silhouette in the dark held her hands up in the air and said

Alas, such a soul is doomed

Such a presence had been left to the hands of the nothingness

Let me heal your wound and make you disappear

Be certain that you will never breath again.

Self.

Published on my FB: Sunday, 10 April 2016

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Author: Venusian Cenobite

Do not read me if you get easily offended. Any antisocial material published under this blog is fictional and should not be taken seriously.

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