DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
A wrong way burned against him, and he wondered what he’d accomplished, after everything. Why he always lost. Why his efforts never seemed to matter. Why he was an anchor, a stone, while everyone else was a current. Why he wanted sometimes for nothing more than the ice and stars, to show him the way home, back into summits where he could stand on his fortress and feel nothing. Nothing but bitterness and rancor, nothing but vehemence and vengeance. Nothing but power and violence, the chaos spread through his bones and limbs, and the world could try and drag him down and he wouldn’t let it, wouldn’t allow, wouldn’t permit until he’d had his time – He could feel her moving towards him, reaching to his long mane, threading her fingers through. You cannot have this, the grass seemed to mock and whisper. This will not last the stones hushed and lacquered, and he swallowed down the sorrows, but couldn’t pulse them away from his eyes. An arm was flung over them, so he couldn’t see, so he couldn’t know, so he’d be hidden, as the tears formed and the heartache poured from his soul.
And still, he curled instinctively in her traces, in her caresses, like there were moments where he could still be cherished and loved.
Not forgotten. Not tossed aside.
“I know nothing.” To a soul he couldn’t fathom or understand, to a life he’d led, to an ignorance bleeding him dry. To a you he’d never heard. To a shadow he comprehended so very, very well, a darkness he craved now and forever, a light bending and showing him something beyond the void, then pushing him back into it. “I wanted to be a sword to protect all of you. It is what I have always done.” And failed, and failed and failed and failed – a miserable collision course. “I do not become things for myself.” A whisper of another defeat, floundering, and collapse. Not when he'd been King, not when he'd been General, not when he'd been no one, naught, at all.
Unite and spread the heart apart
