...Smile...

...Smile...

By Pandemonius Crashland

The Thorn in his side, the thorn that is eating him away, the thorn that won't give and he can't shake, is from the tree he has planted. His eyes when open, are able to see the same as if were closed...A great sea of nothing infested with the teeth of his own mind. With a bleading wound from his heart, those teeth will find, and finish him off.

His body growing cold, the slightest touch of warmth is highly acceptable to his twisted fate, the slightest touch of remembrace, of the one who lives no longer... There is no-one left thats real to him, his loss, himself, was taken all away, like a little kid with a toy, set atop a shelf, out of reach, and crying.

He is drifting, no-way of knowing how long, but, feels like eternity. Every once in a while he feels a nibble at his feet, an impending desolate doom. He is hoping for a searchlight, but is impossible if no-one is looking. Where are all the stars, even in solitude, the stars help... Having eyes watching him, waiting for him to perform... or for the curtains to close, so they could get on with there lives... Is he dead?

He is not one bit sorry, bears no remorse, for what he has done to her, touched her life, not needing anything back. How far are his self engendered demises along his twisted pitiful state...a great self sacrifice.

Each passing day, even though ominous, he is greatful and in his acceptance he yells thanks for the slow and painful, being amused by the irony...The most lonliest time of his life, drifting along...

The missing stars, his screaming fans, don't even care anyways, the show is the same every time...and how much time is left? The sea with teeth is looking promising now...Realization, he is sorry for one thing...one person...an expired life...To see her again, what would he do?

Is he dreaming, is it almost over, can he see her, the one star, not wanting an encore, but something else? Is that what hope looks like? Now he is lost in what it means, his ocean toying with him, the teeth ever so persistant, he does not know what to do, are an explanation to try. A toying hope, it seems...

Now, all he could ever so possibly think about is her. She has saved him once before using "Smile, I love you." in a very understandable whisper, that circumvents your very aura of life. "It's okay." Followed by the most beautiful smile you couldn't even fathom. Can she do this again? Or will the Great sea swallow it up?

The teeth so sharp, the hope so dim, the memory so vivid, the star so bright, and a sea of nothing, he can balance being the the other side of his own equation. If it wasn't for his generosity, he wouldn't be better off would he? Her smile, her whisper. The one star in the sky, being luminous, being a halo, the memory that still brings a warm engulfment to himself, his hope, and, a legacy are what he has now.
The teeth deliver his fate. The curtains close.

...Hope is a whisper, a smile, and a memory...