literature

Dying of the Light

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Literature Text

Turning to the darkness that swells behind her obscene and broken-mouthed, gaping and reaching, she draws her sword and screams defiance. I'll cut and slash until there's nothing left, nothing! nothing of this rot that crept into my world unbidden—

Love is a strengthening thing, but it can also rot. It is the ladder and the quicksand beneath; it is the rust that engulfs the structure; it is the wind that sends the pinwheel spinning until the petals tear away, tumbling into oblivion.

When your future belongs to someone else, it should only follow that you should be freed by that lifting of responsibility.

This is not how it is.

Chains come in many compositions. And as long as you pull against them, you will never slip free. If you slacken and allow yourself to become as nothing, you may become nothing enough to trickle through the cracks.

But who, with the fire of a destiny thrust upon them burning in their breasts, would become nothing? If the flame is blown out, if it is extinguished by a deluge, if it burns itself out, fine.

Death is not dishonor. Allowing oneself to die is.
Slightly longer than normal drabble fed on Florence + The Machine, Starry's writing and a dark black mood.

Lena, for ~Stalkerglaive.
© 2011 - 2024 candyexorcist
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NewsprintAndCrystal's avatar
I used this as the basis for a photomanip: [link]