When the times are idle, you will find yourself walking in the recesses of your own mind, without particularly anything to do other than drown in your own madness, the madness which you created, lived and buried yourself in. You find yourself doing that now, and in your lonely sojourn you find, unexpectedly, a discarded sheet of paper, brittle, the color of old parchment, lying at your feet; where it came from, who knows where. On it is a sketch. It bears no name, no signature. The work is not your own. It is a portrait of someone you might have known, perhaps ages ago. Her young face is vibrant, beautiful, painfully familiar. Her eyes brim with life — a full life, one that she wished for you, and with the remnants of her dying breath, still wanted you to have. Does it really do so well to forget? Her memory could still save you. After all, stars shine on for a thousand years even after their flames burn out…

There is nothing but stunned silence, a furrowed brow which sets into anger, the echo of something not quite forgotten.

When the times are idle, you will find yourself walking in the recesses of your own mind, without particularly anything to do other than drown in your own madness, the madness which you created, lived and buried yourself in. You find yourself doing that now, and in your lonely sojourn you find, unexpectedly, a discarded sheet of paper, brittle, the color of old parchment, lying at your feet; where it came from, who knows where. On it is a sketch. It bears no name, no signature. The work is not your own. It is a portrait of someone you might have known, perhaps ages ago. Her young face is vibrant, beautiful, painfully familiar. Her eyes brim with life — a full life, one that she wished for you, and with the remnants of her dying breath, still wanted you to have. Does it really do so well to forget? Her memory could still save you. After all, stars shine on for a thousand years even after their flames burn out…

There is nothing but stunned silence, a furrowed brow which sets into anger, the echo of something not quite forgotten.

posted 1 year ago @ 12 May 2013 with 5 notes
  1. rosexofxoblivion submitted this to maligncatharsis