Dont Fuck This Up Beta............. - Blog Posts

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 / 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 ;    some sacred agonies were simply overbearing, over-gobbling, the cosmos eager to sunder and disassemble.  one side too real, the other too dead.  too holy, too eldritch.  they took root and vine as rotten artery-roads through a gilded body.  though your words rang true, your softness lied.  always, always were there lies. ( like hers, like anyone else's.  ) along with the ghosts you soothed you faded before her, and to this, she was regrettably blind.  oh, what feats she would undertake  ---  moving mountains, parting the seas, bending the skies for her twinkling asteria's happiness !  perhaps, this might have been the reason she shan’t know the hidden meaning. your ailment a secret by volition of cold light.    “ fear does even plague ghosts, it is unfortunate such inflicts those who have yet to meet their end, in turn.  ”   herein the irony manifested between two fleuret women and their empathic attributes, their shared compounds tempering sorrow like a balm to a bruise.  hers, a gift to the living    /    yours, to the unliving.  she did rather not admit her particular understanding of a ghost's reasoning for its lingering obstinacy, and that in her own dismays she would stir waters to tremendous dimensions.    “ even so —  i could not blame them.  the light of yonder is too bright and terrifying, too cryptic for them.  what else will it cleanse aside from memory ?  some may not be able to let go of their pain… ”    and their wailing may never be heard, in silence they must weep. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 for those whose eyes sees the unknown. the markings of a goddess, it’s plague clouding her vision towards a death-screamed spiral. it suffocates her. the desperation of fallen corpses clinging onto her soul : hungry for vengeance, craving for existence, and when they speak it was honey sung words reaped with veiled treachery. the chaos in her eyes is marred with blood stained tears, yet the night star no longer mourns for its injustice. instead, she carries on pretending she is unbothered / pretending she is above the terror which torments the earth. smile, play her role, she has always been good at acting and running away.  ❝  ——  hmm, what do you think they say ?  ❞  look how patiently the stars deflects their response. her dialect spoken with an air of spacious wonder, dancing on the cusp of religious taboo, with falsehood innocence to match.  ❝  the dead who remains... often feels very wronged.  ❞  there will always be some semblance of truth to her words, but because you are her holy sister, she offers you nothing less than sincerity.  ❝  they do not want to part with the living, so they choose to ignore the summoning of the light above. it hurts them too you see, so they hurt others. or at least some of them do. many of them simply hides. ❞