[P] Cell

[sweet_angel]

I am bound to roam the remnants of the earth forever.
I will always be searching for the light at the end of the tunnel,
the candle in the dark,
or the single shinning star it the sky that can help me find my way.
I was born only for the purpose of the overcharge on my coffin.
If life were going to be this way, I would have escaped long ago.
Now it was too late.
Too young to die yet too old to be wanted.
If only the exit wasn’t so far out of my reach.
If only I could live to say goodbye to my friends.

But as the door is closed,
the door to my cell,
I wondered what I did wrong.
Didn’t god give us but a single choice in our life?
I wouldn’t use this choice greedily.
Wealth and fame?
I’ll pass.
I would much rather be free,
and to have my life spared for just a while longer.

The darkness of the cell embraced me tightly.
There was no light at all.
Everything was sealed up under lock and key,
the same way I had lived my life,
the same way I would leave my life.
As the minutes ticked by,
they grew slower and slower
as if time itself was waiting for me.

As I turned my head
I could see imaginary tricks being played on me.
The silhouettes of crazed figures in the air frightened me.
Where was my guardian angel?
I must not have one for it would have been shot down by lies and broken promises so long ago.
This was not what he promised.

The monsters in the darkness grew bigger.
They were demons sent to kill me.
I tried to keep my grip on reality but my imagination was growing stronger.
As the last bit of reality was slipping from my fingertips I realized it wouldn’t come back.
This was supposed to be my life, not his.

I was positive I was going mad.
The darkness was driving my sanity to a stake.
It was as if I was being possessed by the desirable spell being placed on me.
The monsters were teasing me,
taunting me,
tricking me into believing all was good when really it was bad.
Trying to get me to change my mind.
I was falling for their tricks.
This is what he wanted.
He had everything planned out.
I would die and he would dance on my grave.
It’s probably greedy to ask for a life,
but I can’t help it.
I have never felt anyone’s warm embrace.
Never been cherished.
I was always the unlucky one.
Did I not have a soul?
What gave him the right to do this to me?

I could feel the darkness demons’ fangs puncturing my skin but no blood was issued.
They were tearing me apart from inside.
As I screamed in pain my own voice sent chills down my spine.
I could almost see his face,
hear his maniacal laughter dissolving the silence.

As I let out my last scream,
gulped my last breath,
I realized nothing could save me.
I had been unlucky and I had come to face that hope truly is the denial of reality.
You can hope,
wish,
and pray for something better.
You can work your fingers to the bone and get whipped until you can’t stand.
Nothing will get better.
Hope just makes it worse.
Therefore you are better off wishing for death then wishing for good.
Because nothing good can happen from death.
There is never anyone to save you when you are made out to be the enemy.