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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Dark · #2219910
The ancient ones are always watching
Her skin is like paper
The wind blows and it rips her wide open
The blood pours forth from veins torn asunder
Her skin hangs in tattered shreds like strips of flesh waiting to feed the dogs

Their mouths wide open and saliva dripping from their jaws in anticipation
Just one taste is all they request, but nothing will ever be enough to satisfy the beasts
The demons within are now without and nothing can satiate their hunger
Not even the life of the girl wrapped in paper

Naked and exposed, lying on a street corner in the snow.
Melting into the sidewalk like a chalk outline shows the place where someone once belonged
Now, nothingness encompasses her and she surrenders into its grip.
Fading into the background like static.
It's just white noise now.

No beginning, no end. Nowhere left to surface.
Just a grave of pain and shame from a world that suckered her in, chewed her up, spit her out.
Just a bag of bones without any flesh.
Cold and grey.
Empty eyes; soulless, voiceless.
No hope remains.
That was all just an illusion anyways.

Torture. Endless torture.
The spine board carries her into a cell.
She is silent and empty.
Tools emerge from holes carved into stone walls, weathered and moss covered.
The tools of torture ready to penetrate her body, her mind, her soul.
Waiting to rip out her dark and empty heart.

The vice grips tighten around her wrists and ankles.
The drum beats echo in the chamber.
An endless waltz with the devil.
He comes inside and makes himself at home.
Uses her, takes whatever is left over - just crumbs.

The faded fantasy was never meant to be.
This life was never meant to exist
All this pain; such a waste.

There's nowhere left to hide as the walls and ceiling close in,
Encasing her in a tomb of stone.
No one can penetrate the entrance because it is sealed
And the seal cannot be broken in this lifetime
In this existence.

This place where time and eternity are the same.
Where there is no distinction anymore,
If there ever was any to begin with.
No life. No death.
Just a nagging uncertainty whether we will all get to where we need to go in the end.

Someone has to take all the blame, the pain, the shame.
The hurt, the negativity, the anger, the sorrow.
The overwhelming anguish screaming from the depths of the burning core
Ready to explode in a blaze of orgasmic fanfare.
One final hurrah
And then it's over.

A jolt, a spasm, one final electric moment
And then it all dissipates.
Over.
Gone.
Feelings floating down from the sky.
Passing through columns of stone marbled with the faces of the titans.
The walls have strengthened

Through the power flowing from the ones,
The ancient ones.
The watchers.
They sell everything and everyone.
And they are forgiven.
It has all been foretold.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2219910-The-Paper-Prophecy