Sometimes I imagine that I'm falling. Not out of control, not forever. I imagine that I am high in the sky, with blood-red wings coming from my back, falling towards the outter edge of a high cliff, overlooking a beautiful green landscape below.
As I fall head-first towards death, I use the wings to spin. I can't describe how it feels, but I truely enjoy it. Wind rushing all around me, gravity pulling me to mother, and I have the power to stop it all.
But I don't.
I fall, and I fall. The edge of the cliff is just below me, and I hit it. The wings break and shatter, ripping on the edges of rocks as I pummel down the side. My arms and legs are battered, my face and body cut. My back is bleeding, bones and feathers mingled with my life showing the path I tumble down.
Finally, I hit the bottom. The grass beneath me and my blood raining with feathers and stones from above are all that I notice anymore. I am still alive. Beaten and broken, but alive. Alive.
If given the chance, I'd do the same thing again.
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Where souls disappear...
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Glee... my image seems not to work... emo
月に代わってお仕置きよ。