Alyn Agnes {District 1 ─ CB ─ FIN}
Oct 3, 2017 13:21:12 GMT -5
Post by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Oct 3, 2017 13:21:12 GMT -5
Blackfyre.
I was brought up a modest boy, wrapped in the glow of a family as gentle as the spring wind in buds and leaves. They bore no cruelty, they endorsed me to do whatever on my own accords and I reciprocated their kindness by being tender and caring myself. And, nowadays, my kindness is still within me, showing brightly whenever but there’s a newfound harshness in my tongue and mind. I look into the mirror, but my reflection isn’t my own—it’s a facade I’ve been wearing for so long and I’m beginning to think that it might be my true persona. I’m hesitant to help others in need of aide now, and these once-tender hands are becoming calloused. So, I try to pull myself out of this sinkhole, try to get myself back in optimal condition, but the sands are trying to choke the life out of me.
But, I become the most vulnerable, and more importantly, my true self when I’m within the warmth of his presence. He peels my layers off, piece-by-piece, fabric-by-fabric and I’m left as raw as I can be. He’s a lattice of mysterious grins and intentions and I’m a simple knot compared to him. Maybe, through our laced fingers, we’ll diminish each other’s weaknesses and find our true colors in each other’s lips and arms. We’ll fortify our strengths together. May this story end in nuptial vows, not with elegies. In this story, may we turn into clusters of stars in the cosmic skies, not corpses buried six feet under the dying earth.
I was brought up a modest boy, wrapped in the glow of a family as gentle as the spring wind in buds and leaves. They bore no cruelty, they endorsed me to do whatever on my own accords and I reciprocated their kindness by being tender and caring myself. And, nowadays, my kindness is still within me, showing brightly whenever but there’s a newfound harshness in my tongue and mind. I look into the mirror, but my reflection isn’t my own—it’s a facade I’ve been wearing for so long and I’m beginning to think that it might be my true persona. I’m hesitant to help others in need of aide now, and these once-tender hands are becoming calloused. So, I try to pull myself out of this sinkhole, try to get myself back in optimal condition, but the sands are trying to choke the life out of me.
But, I become the most vulnerable, and more importantly, my true self when I’m within the warmth of his presence. He peels my layers off, piece-by-piece, fabric-by-fabric and I’m left as raw as I can be. He’s a lattice of mysterious grins and intentions and I’m a simple knot compared to him. Maybe, through our laced fingers, we’ll diminish each other’s weaknesses and find our true colors in each other’s lips and arms. We’ll fortify our strengths together. May this story end in nuptial vows, not with elegies. In this story, may we turn into clusters of stars in the cosmic skies, not corpses buried six feet under the dying earth.
