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Literature Text
“The hate will keep us warm”
I whisper to myself, as if it's my mantra, my reason.
Outside, you will never see the cracks. I'll make sure you never see them.
Inside no storm rages, no gale force winds rock my very soul. No hellfire consumes me to my very core.
No, nothing is there but shadow, not darkness, but not light. Almost as if it's the absence of both.
It'll chill you to your very bones if you let it. It can shatter your very foundation if you slip. And if you attempt to pierce this veil, no treasure is to be found. No if you search within my very being, my soul, all that is there is an empty husk. Pieces, strewn about, as if someone was trying to forget what had once been there. The shroud is unacceptable, you will lose your way the very moment you step within it. Those who do, cry out in frustration and give up. Those who do, never try to find what's truly hidden in the shadow. They leave, and take what little warmth they brought with them.
So I tell you: No, my “suffering” is not that of someone who is lost at sea. More like the stray left out in the snow. Or one of the many lives taken while they looked down at us from up above. Fear not, though, for we have a saying, us dogs of war.
“The hate will keep us warm”
I whisper to myself, as if it's my mantra, my reason.
Outside, you will never see the cracks. I'll make sure you never see them.
Inside no storm rages, no gale force winds rock my very soul. No hellfire consumes me to my very core.
No, nothing is there but shadow, not darkness, but not light. Almost as if it's the absence of both.
It'll chill you to your very bones if you let it. It can shatter your very foundation if you slip. And if you attempt to pierce this veil, no treasure is to be found. No if you search within my very being, my soul, all that is there is an empty husk. Pieces, strewn about, as if someone was trying to forget what had once been there. The shroud is unacceptable, you will lose your way the very moment you step within it. Those who do, cry out in frustration and give up. Those who do, never try to find what's truly hidden in the shadow. They leave, and take what little warmth they brought with them.
So I tell you: No, my “suffering” is not that of someone who is lost at sea. More like the stray left out in the snow. Or one of the many lives taken while they looked down at us from up above. Fear not, though, for we have a saying, us dogs of war.
“The hate will keep us warm”
the many wondrous ramblings of a joe who can't seem to get it right. Seeking peace, but never between the mind, body, and spirit. Instead locked in turmoil and fancies himself a loner at best, and something much more terrible at worst. Shall we watch him wreak havoc upon his very soul? Watch him rip himself apart piece by piece? After all it's much more entertaining than to see him struggle to fix the very thing he broke: himself.
© 2014 - 2024 CasualtyOfWar
Comments2
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I agree, there is always this raw edge to your writing that lends it power.