Now, let me shed the serpentine skin I've embroided myself with.
Back when time was young within my mind, my eyes beheld such a great lovely creature, one made of ebony and glittering love, that I could not resist.
I plunged myself into the abyss, and it was on my knees.
But I fell. That lovely hand made not a gesture to reach me down there. I hoped for it to come into my aid. I yearned for her most lovely voice. My body and mind were hurt.
She didn't came. She never came down. I had been thrown into a pit, a void, a bottomless, dark vault. The bottom was a luxury I was not given. Hope was a commodity then, one I couldn't afford with the humble coin of innocence. WHat I had of it, I lost.
But then I found strenght where others lack will. I found sustenance where others find only misery. Sorrow came into my veins so deep that it numbed me, until my blood, now running thinner, seemed to be black as the pitch of late night.
In time I realized that I was not afright. I had no fear of the void. The abyss was hugging me, clinging dark dressing me as fine fur and rich silk.
The velvet of darkess gave me new image. I knew how to go out. Sorrow, it became a source of nourishment, the blood dripping in the lips of the ghast, the ichor running in the veins of the godchildren.
That shadows had no secret for me. My light had vanished completly. I had not a remembrance of bright within my memory. Only darkness.
And in darkness I thrived. In the dark I found solace. I found strength to keep isolation all around and safety for myself.
But the time came when I had to go out. I opened that gates of dark and took the road out of the shadows. By then, I was addicted to sorrow. I could not spend much out of it's devouring grasp.
Time passed and all the while, even through my walls were as thick and strong as they had been for long, envious ivy and thorny roses had climbed them, reaching the battlements, suffocating the view I had for the outside world, pulling my eyes out of the dark reverie I had been in peace with.
Still, when the time came when my wretched voice made every leaf and every prickle and every petal wither away, the vision of mine was already blurred. The outside had tricked me again. And now I have angered the shadow gates, I was in exile, turned to my own devices.
And through a red way I found a little strength again. Still yearning for the shadows so close, but so far. I would dive into the reality cracks I cast on every wall I walk against if it was possible.
Impossible.
The darkness within me was being subdued. I was returning to my weakest and transparent state. The wight was embroided in serpentine no more.
Then a little light came nearby.
A LITTLE LIGHT CAME NEARBY.
That spark of sol showed that I had no relliance for the Shadow anymore. With such light by my side, the dark in me would grow darker, and the light in her would go blinding.
Alas! The outside reached me again. A tripwire web is set all around me, between me and the holy light my eyes had turned to.
And now I can realize, out of disrepair and under the cunning figure of the mesmerize, that a parasite had grown with me, and my doubts had been feeding this filthborn wretch since I had found strength in sorrow.
FEAR was now taking over. It was draining me. It preyed upon me when I was weak and starving on the void. It took in as easily as the nourishing shadow did to my numb limbs.
Now the traps are all set. My eyes are blurred. My senses fail. All I hope for is to get closer to the light, so the dark in the depths of me will find all its weary strength once more.
And then I will gladly unleash the shadows I forged alliances with upon those who ever fancied, in their dreams of naïve solace, that they could bring down the glory in the name of mine.
I'm not a shadow. I'm thousands of them spiralling in a confusion of masks, the bloodiest of traps carefully disguised, a poisoned thorn dressed in soft leaves, attrative to the feet.
I'm shadows. Shadows deeply in love with that light. May one day that nova blast ajar the gates on my walls, so new strength will come in.
I thirst for your endless bright, my shiny lady, my fair Giltweep.
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