Work Text:
Through the screams of terror, I am found,
as the world spirals into an unfathomable horror.
Yet to your voice, I feel bound
something that makes my heart ache with despair.
It locks me in place and takes me by surprise,
My viridescent feathers wrapping around my body like a safety net
And only then do I contemplate about your sudden demise
Taken away from me by the world too soon.
And it makes me question the good and bad times,
our fights and our experiences interlocked forever,
My song now starting with nothing but a small chime.
The absence of your voice
I think I can stop everything, I’m sure that I can
but your voice filled with rage and panic sends my mind back into the void,
Knowing well that it’ll never work out, even with a well-crafted plan.
My arms move like I am attached to a puppeteer,
each step carefully planned and thought out by the one above
Yet to the crowd below, I am simply a small deer.
Contradicting the wings and beak that make me who I am.
But why am I not as shocked as I hoped to be? Why am I not as upset as I should be? It’s a warning tale come true, my world collapsing in front of me as I claw at the ground, desperate to hold the cold air of the void, to see the void. To see you.
It hurts and it hurts until my heart explodes with anguish, the blood rushing to my brain as my head pounds to the beat of a drum. My face grows cold, nose sniffling after each tick while I bleed tremendously at the fingertips.
You are gone. You are gone. You are gone and I can’t bring myself to accept it, to believe life can continue to go normally when my world has fallen from the sky, and you are the sole reason as to why.
And so I realised that I’ve lied, to you, to all. I am the sole person on stage, eyes flickering between the judging faces of the crowd as they assess my actions, tell me I’m wrong when all I had ever known was to keep it right.
To keep it right. To keep everyone I know in order, like soldiers training for war. Because everything I’ve ever known was war, an endless battle in my mind that led to your death. To your blood on my hands, and the world outside turning against me.
In my attempt to keep you safe, I had murdered you through the hands of someone else. And I don’t expect you to forgive me.
I don’t want you to forgive me. I want you to hate me with every bone of my body, to tell me that I could’ve done better, I could’ve turned around and back down before the world crumbled in between my hands.
But I knew that you still would. You’d tell me it was okay, and go back to carefully tracing over the feathers of mine, apologising everytime I flinched.
You would, but I can’t bring myself to say anything back. You would, and it makes my blood boil with hatred for you when all I’ve ever known about you was love.
You’d forgive me. And expect me to forgive myself.
You would, but I wouldn’t.