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:._ z _.: (sins_of_god) wrote,
@ 2003-11-23 01:41:00
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    Current mood:of total war
    Current music:vnv_nation-dark_angel

    ... no real point to this, just ... needs to come out.
    event one:
    the mysterious drifter and i spoke last night. ... said that somethings were better left as they once were. also said that i have the bad potential of ending up worse than both of them. is that true? i have already been labled as a demon. ... what would make that worse is if i had the will of a human. a mortal half demon. i think that's what i'll fancy myself as for right now.
    for ff7 reference ... y'know how sephiroth was the "angel of one wing"? ... i guess i'm the "demon of one wing" or something. still, my lable for signing remains : angel of one black wing. anyone who knows anything knows that NO biblical angel has black wings. that's a sign of a demonic entity. i guess to explain ...
    i'm not an evil person. in fact, i try my damndest to help people out. i even sacrifice my own good for some people, sometimes. thus: angel. now, the black wing comes from only having ONE wing. and it's black. a friend once said ... angels may hide in the darkest of places, and demons lay in the brightest light. i'm of the latter. taking things to a new level, ... i know this is all just anologies, and none of this is REAL.
    event two:
    thought i was done? hah. a lot has been on my mind as of late, and ... i guess it's time to let it all flow onto some sort of digital form, 'cause i can't talk to anyone ... save the muse. music is nice. it's my only escape. oh yeah. and i know i'm not strong. heh. i admit it. i'm worthless. my existence? pointless. oh, don't worry. i'm not feeling sorry for myself. i'm stating FACTS here people.
    in detail:
    so many problems with my "love" right now, i'm not sure if i'm doing something right or wrong by staying with her, just to see if things work out. normally extremely realistic, i'd LIKE to hope for the best, but ... when she snaps at me for no apparent reason, and i walk to a different area of the room ( we live in a studio apartment ... ) out of her sight, she doesn't need to feel the need to just walk out. .:sigh:.
    i feel ... like ... just ... writing.

    // End Real Entry

    A man stood alone, against the darkest dawn. A slight tilt of his head granted forgiveness from the shadows. The road ahead of him, riddled and confused with uncertainties. His eyes, gazing towards the heavens, asking for some sort of answer to his unwhispered question. His only reply, heaven's silence. White vapor appeared from his sigh. The journey wasn't finished.

    Ahead of him, lay two roads. One of pain and trial, and at the end, was final peace and a content heart. The other, lay amidst familiar territory. It was the road leading back the way he had came. Only this time, it would be venture made alone. His mind slips for a moment, and he loses himself ... in a sudden rush of hesitation. A voice seemingly calls out to him: Sweet dreams are made of this. Who are you to disagree? He was directed towards the road of tribulations. A violent shake of his head, and his thoughts cleared. He regained his composure, and looked further down the road. It was then ... another voice, one more haunting directed him towards the familiar. Can you describe how it feels? Can you tell yourself how do you feel, after you treat yourself like you do? Laughter surrounds him suddenly.
    You fell in love. You had too many tears to fall again. But now you need that love in everyway. Now as you walk around inside of her town, you can no longer look into her eyes. You have to run away.
    The man closed his eyes. With a shudder, his voice tore through the remaining silence. "I made my own decisions! I ... " His voice fells quieter. " ... I .. I ... just ... "
    He began to hesitate again. He was beginning to run out of time. Both had so much to offer him. He couldn't have both.
    ...
    It was this that began his catalystic change. He wasn't himself anymore. He was in a different mood. From the broken pieces that he picked up of himself, began the reconstruction of a man ... much more able than the boy that had been before.

    end.

    angel of one black wing


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