Marionette Strings

    Life has always taken on a different meaning for me, I guess. Not complicated, either more of less.

    Just different.

Time rolls in waves, over me, around me, through us all. Safe times, dangerous times.

Ebb and Flow.

I was resilient. Thick skinned, standing strong.

Like a Rock.

Yet, like a rock, I am eroded. The waters of this life rock me, shape me, change me.

I am thinned.

Life for me has always been a chore. Something I had to do. First, because, maybe, just maybe, some would come save me, release me from dark cupboards and intolerance. And then, because my death was their death. The death of a world. I was the figurehead of the victory.

The Life.

Too many other lives lay atop my own, interwoven. Co-dependence at it's most dangerous.

And now?

Now I don't know.

It figures I would die this way. A hero's death.

I'm scared.

I never was before. Of death, I mean. Maybe even wished for it sometimes. Lying here, life takes on a sharp relief. So far away, so much behind me, like the fact that there is no more before me is inescapable.

That's even more frightening.

Do I not get to go back? Will it not flash before my eyes? Why am I just left here to think on what I'll never have. Instead, why not the bittersweet goodbye of my good memories, ones I shall never see again?

I don't want to die.

There is so much I haven't had, so much untouched. All my life has been lived for reasons other than living.

Is that a life? Hardly.

I haven't lived. How can I be robbed of something I haven't had?

And how can the loss of it hurt so much?

I haven't ever felt full. Complete.

I've loved- oh, and have I lost. But that love remains unexplored, that loss too destructive.

Left Hanging.

I'll never touch her.

Chocolate eyes, vanilla skin. Silk and Satin, Hair and Flesh. The one with whom I am so interwoven...

Co-dependence at its most dangerous.

I haven't joyed in small gasps meant only for me, because of me. Haven't shared in early morning leisure, simply being together and happy...

A war life has ripped me apart before my real formation.

I'll never be able to sit and simply Enjoy to know it has all finished.

I was meant to end the war of our world... And Instead...

Instead it has finished me.

I DO have something to live for. I have her, I have happiness to achieve. To be fulfilled, complete, and to feel, without fear.

I don't want to die.

How dare I just lie there, convulsing, giving in? Split away from myself and watching.

    I am thinned by waves of pain.

    Yet even a grain of sand is a rock.

    How dare he stand there, delighting in my pain? I am beyond the physical pain he brings me... Has brought me. Acceptance dulls. But here, above it all, there is nothing but my mind, and the scarring thought that there is an end.

    But just not the end that I was looking for.

    The end of me before I began.

    How dare I finish like this, at the end of the same wand that has controlled the marionette strings of my life.

    A rock cannot move by itself.

    I don't want to die.

    Maybe, just maybe, someone will come to save me from dark cupboards...

    Like before...

    Because now, as it stands, there is no future.

    There will be no future...

    Nothing left of me but my past...