Post by Sasuke Uchiha on Sept 28, 2007 14:25:39 GMT -5
The void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
For now we stand alone
It felt like he was at the beginning again. And the beginning was cold. He hadn't remembered, or simply hadn't even been aware of the icy hell clogging his head and with glacier ringlets of metal shackling him to one place. Just one place. And cold, it was cold. He had come this far, only to find his thought of moving forward was a mere u-turn, and with just a single sharp shove he had fallen over the void in between.
And back to the beginning.
He wanted to call it the end. But the ghost of Vengeance wished to coax him otherwise. This was the beginning. This was where he had started. And why did he have to come back this far? Because he had made a mistake. Some big, self-stabbing screw up that was repentable. Repentable. He could make up for the loss? And that ghost would only feed him more, more orders whispered so softly the seemed like free favors, advice that should be treasured. Not hated. And why shouldn't the Uchiha listen? Why not?
Because it was He who caused this stumble.
Not the ghost, and now he was stuck in the bitter mental winter that had once seemed like a haven, and was now a hell. Sasuke was seeing his sudden desire for the 'fine art' had sunken down to the scribbles again. Finger painted lines that were uneven and wet, dripping down to tamper any solid hue left. There was red, black and white, and such elements made the compound of wrath. Nothing complex about it, but it hurt like hell.
The picture was a cloud.
Broken thought twisting his head... The ache of disgruntled bemusement not longer a small pest but a violent racket pounding away at the walls of his skull. He wanted to sleep, sleep or shut his eyes, stand still, so he didn't feel like he was crawling around with his head hanging useless. A cloud. A cloud. Bodied red and fringed with white, surrounded by an unbroken pitch of black, and within it was a face, and from the face was a name. Itachi. And that name was a taunt as much as a chain. He couldn't go back.
It was his secret. His jail.
His life, and again, his life. He lived this long. Forsake it now? No. Go back to those dungeons and wait for second chance to come around? No Was he going to be able to brush it off like this? No.[/b]
No more running now.
He had started something... And now he had to end it. Make an end at the beginning, before that beginning become an end.
He opened his eyes.
And laughed. A hollow sound. Dour and dry, and possibly crazed. He wasn't making sense. Out of all things now, he wasn' making any damn sense at all. So out of spite, he laughed. A short lived break in the cold clear he used to live in. Why not? Why not laugh? Everything. Everything made no sense, it was suddenly a hilarious dawning realization. He hated it, but why not? Everything he'd done here, so far, had gone from bad to worse and from worse to bad. Was there a difference? In the end? No. And what if he could make it work, could it?
Yes...
Something darker seemed to quiver, and not he was blind to the fact it truly was the beginning. All over again. He was just seeing it differently now. Seeing it differently while standing in the very same place he had first meant the the strangest of poeple...[/color][/size][/font]
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate
With no more to hate
