Dying Fairy

Once in my life I was free to soar, to sing, to shout at the top of my lungs, to think of anything and give life to it like a god growing wings to a worm…I was freer, if not completely free. I didn’t have anything to own, nothing to be concerned about, but myself and my endless wanderlust.

Until love made me a slave of many kinds. My hands and feet got tied with ludicrous obsession to please and perverted desire to get hurt over and over…what have become of me? Never in my million imaginings did I ever think pain could be this addictive. I cringe at the thought of myself licking on my own blood and feeling so alive with its taste.

If only I could find a cave in which I could yield and conceal myself from this world. I am too much embarrassment. My existence is a shame to the rest of the dancing elegantly powerful fairies where I used to belong.

I loathe love and anything that it resonates. It’s like a cancer that has stricken me, leaving me with no other choice but to lie in my death bed and wait till it finally consumes my flesh to rot.

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