Even In Death



Happy Halloween guys and ghouls…


She sobs pitifully; pathetically, strolling unintentionally to where the deceased make their beds and slumber in deafening silence. Eternally confined to the abyss of darkness. Never to taste bliss, happiness, the thrills and frills of life again. The ridiculous and shameful end to many of men who risked their lives to barely live. Where crows pose on wooden poles raised high above the rows. Where corpses, uninhabited, lie stiffly morbid under the placid earth. Where from birth all are cursed to feel hurt.

She stumbles past the stones that mark the lair of bones, thrones of the unknown left forgotten and alone. No mercy to be shown for this poor girl’s moan is heard from afar. Her scars burn, and the agony intensifies. Her worst fears becoming a reality check in which she cannot escape this ill-fated, anticipated, exaggerated wreck. Sorrowful memories rush back and swallow her whole. Flames of hate and rage engulf her shattered soul. All the sanity fading as she lies down on the frigid ground awaiting to fulfill her destiny. No debating, no contemplating, just going down majestically.

Silence fills the grave dragging on the impending doom. For self-pity she has no room. A heaving chest and deep breaths palpitate from her womb. Another warrior soon and by the light of the moon she is guided. Knowingly, she sighs. A single tear expels. Now is her time to roam the streets of hell: a damnable, disastrous domain she knows all too well for she is compelled by her demonic holiness. Turned savage by her loneliness she prayed to the devil for forgiveness. He answered with maliciousness. But alas, as was the deed, her life was surely done. To make way for another one. More vicious, vile, and villainous for the mother was merely tricked but this beast would be born calamitous!

Her eyes water and swell as she chokes on regret. Remorse from sacrificing so much when her needs were never met. She was simply used; her loyalty mistaken. Nothing more than a temporary haven. And with this, the last bit of life slips off her lips and is gone like leaves with the wind. How melancholy, mournful, and monstrous it is to have the wicked side win: morale below sin. Pure poison. Hateful, heinous, and hideous with no good intent to give. Surely, she’ll be avenged for even in death she lives.