Blackness in rain.


Inside my head, I see the blackness of my soul. The constant raping of my mind, a father’s breath, lost in the wind. Finding the words, the truth of what I am, of what brings out the dragon, I feel him clawing to come out. I find the scratches upon my chest. Incredible it seems all these things in my mind. Living and chasing the forgotten thing, the dream, and the chasm of my soul. Diverted from what I came to do. Hearing his voice and seeing the words. The condescending, the loss of reality; is this what I am to become? I feel it is not true.

Pouring my soul onto the page, making them live, breath and exist for me. Seeing the truth, hearing it call to me. Asking for it, feeling it. Am I grasping at the straws of fate? Does the feeling of grayness and pain feel like this all the time?

Another journey for another time.

B

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This entry was posted in Dracula, Fear, novels, science fiction, writer, writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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