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Decay's Portrait

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Decay's Portrait I am held hostage in this cage of crimson shadows, shadows of the past that devour the piercing silence. With bound legs, I run to find a secret crevice where I might lie hidden from the brink of an abysmal slumber, but all I can do is remain frozen before this timeless masquerade, this mirror of horrible reality. The truth is more than I can bear. My hands putrid, I smear and baptize myself with contempt in an attempt to establish a deceiving visage. I feel safe for a moment, knowing that my ignorance protects me from the one thing that I fear the most. I continue to deny the insidiousness that lies not beneath my charred skin but within my nature. It is a fa´┐Żade, a blanket of false protection that allows me to face myself in this two-way mirror. I am what I fear. My eyes glaze into these hollow sockets as I recall that fated day... The morning dew drips faintly as the sun creeps over the tide. ...read more.


How did I not see it before? This mirror served as a window to my past and now reveals my true beauty within. Beneath the aged scars and countless bruises, I am Beauty at her finest. My resplendence is short-lived as the heavy footsteps of an overpowering shadow lurches from the darkness. I dare not steal another breath but it's too late. I watch him, triumphantly standing above me. His shrill, pealing laughter echoes long after the rain as the stench of rum escapes his deathly chasm. I cower away but my legs refuse to move. My swollen eyes are drawn to the rusted red can as he pours the water over me, drenching me from head to toe. The cuts and lashes burn searing holes throughout my body as I beg him to stop, but he just laughs and ignores my cries for mercy. I cling to the dirt on his boots, but he merely tosses me aside as he kicks the red can into the mirror. I remain motionless as I watch the window of my perfection shatter to the floor in pieces. ...read more.


Shards of glass hang from the wall as my eyes burn through each piece. I crawl from my secret crevice as a repulsive creature emerges from the shadows, reflecting nothing short of the face of Death itself, but the burden of truth nonetheless. It is with each scar and the stench of burning flesh that I submit myself to the inevitable. This mirror, a timeless masquerade whispers spells of the past that I can no longer hide from. A realization such as this should have driven me to my grave yet I remain standing. I must be a creature of Death to face such a harsh truth. These scars are what make me, and I am what I let myself be-my own portrait of decay not through the distorted facets of this deceptive mirror, but rather through my own bound-tainted spirit. My bitter acceptance lingers in a feverish atmosphere where memories from torn lips lay buried beneath unwelcome footsteps. On the fated threads of entwined souls, a plague gallops on its pale horse, welcoming the depths of this nightmare that has become my reality. An outstretched limb reaches towards me. How did I not see it before? Those hollow sockets are my own. ...read more.

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