If not for love


The deffening silence consumes what nerve remains. Glistening streaks that burn like fire and cut like knives, carve the way for the souls escape. Raptured lust no longer holds the hand of the child who walks with angles, for clipped wings lift not to shone as the sun upon this broken temple. Mocking tones of abhoration and discearn like cannons discharged break the walls of good standing. He beseeched, lie still as the fires consume what remains of his befallen estate. When they lay eyes upon him breathing inquisition of why no hero's presence was found amidst the chaos, he issued but few words with the calm and quiet whisper delivered by the spirit broken, conquered voice that now resides. He answered their inquiries in kind. Their answer a question counter posed, assembled of the six words that he now knows, shall never peaceful slumber or state of mind allow forgotten. With eyes of black and whispered tongue he asked, "If not for love, than what?".

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