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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1512555-Consumed
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Other · #1512555
I'm not completely sure how to describe this. No idea what i was thinking when i wrote it.
I see them as I have never seen them before. They slither and they writhe and they caress and they follow. They surround everyone and everything and they whisper. Oh the things they whisper. They tell us how we will fail and they tell us that we are wrong. They tell of the loves we will never have the loves that will leave. The mate of souls you will never get.

They whisper to me about the three clawed chalice. The treasure so bold. I can feel their touch and I want to escape. But they follow and they slide and they whisper and they will not stop. They tell me what I should do and I know I mustn’t listen. For these are demons that follow and they know no good.

They tell of a treasure so pure that they would destroy before it saw the light of day. They tell of how perfect it would be. The happiness it would bring and they tell me how they would destroy it. No not destroy. They tell how they would corrupt it. So you could see what it once was and weep for it’s loss. They want misery and they can never get enough.

One crawls in my ear and tells me she hates me. I believe it. One is always yelling and I always listening. One demon is me and he tells me everything I don’t want to hear me say. He tells me the things I would never say. He tells me the things that I should never say and he tells me to say them and I listen.

I walk through this life and I see this and know this and I cannot end it. I have no way. There is no way. They will not let me, they give me purpose and they take it away. I wonder, where are the angels. Are they not the ones to keep them in check. “We killed all the angels.” “We are the only future left”.

They tell me they killed God too. God was all too happy to go. He didn’t care about us. We were his toy at one point and we got boring. He left us on his shelf to collect dust and they killed him. Not for justice but because we still believed. They can not do something good any more then a man can fly unassisted.

And they talk to me with my voice and they hear with my ears and they see with my eyes and they hate me as I hate them. And I see more people with their own and I cry. And I see people listening and I see them smiling as they do and I know they are lost, as I know I am lost. As I know we will all be lost. And there is no one left to find us. No one. Not one who cares enough to save us. We are all doomed. We are all consumed.
© Copyright 2009 Zack Colins (boor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1512555-Consumed