**themes of abuse are present**
i've said it once before,
but you never listen. The creaks and cobwebs pay more attention than someone like you (who might as well be brain-dead.)
...wait, are you ?...
What a fascinating corpse! Someone I once knew as the sorrow-denying-my-tomorrow is only a former shade of their once-self! I can breathe and you can NOT! A slight chance I might die of shock! ... if i wasn't so morbidly twisted inside my neural networks from beatings unseen and time lost to your chastising, a bed would have been made to put to rest your ugly hue. A rut has formed around my eye sockets preventing the possibility of regaining any hope from a reflection of my former self. So has a rut has been formed within the memories of creating your current self. The smile I produce in the vanity is eased knowing you're at ease...
Replacing the light bulbs in this palace of masquerading facades should be a priority... the darkness must be controlled but not all-consuming...
...forgive me...
but...
...what was your name again ? :)
It completely slipped my tense brain tissue! Righteously so! Of course Cassandra, I could never forget about you, or it! Your name rings with the sound of snakes! Purposely righteous in its calling to warn the listener of its disparaging dissident to denounce those with sound-mind to be more ill than its own!
...but...
i forget.
why am i here?
is it to forget the horrendously vile torment in the shape of the bile i wretch at the sound of your name?
i digress.
as i digest one of the last fingertips you once owned, i have decided my true nature may have or may not have been aligned with this dark being all along...
..but..
it would not have been awaken.
Stowed away all this time was a cruel being forced into the fetal position for far too long. Inside its host lay a heart of pure beating blood complete with empathetic emotions that could coincide with the Church. A glorious enigmatic proclamation to share its lifeline resided tensely within the host of this cruel being. "To save those that have no choice but to accept pain!" the host exclaimed while adorned in its evening crime-fighting cape. The Saturday morning cartoons had a habitual affect to subside the cruel being's blackened thoughts and replace them with pure justice.
...but...
The beatings persisted.
Once upon a time, the host sat sadly, but freely on the hard, structured surface of a wooden floor inside its bedroom. Tears flowed from the depravity of having to greet the cruel being, because the cruel being knew nothing of justice. The cruel being only knew of pain, of heartache, and of torment. Time after time, the same and the same, a continuous chain of merciless beatings from the host's paranoid "protector." Without reason, a protector was given to the host before the host was ever conscious of ever becoming more than just a vague idea within somebody's DNA. This protector saw within the host somebody else. And through the host, the protector relived the unfortunate sorrow of her own tortured life.
So she struck the host repeatedly in the gut.
It's unfortunate, but the cruel being could not continue being curled into a ball for longer than two decades.
So from off of the sidelines... and into the fray...
Stood the cruel being, adorned in a cape.
Unspoken Prompt #2
my absence...