"How could you have been so stupid!?"
"They should have taken you instead!"
"You let them suffer!""They died because of you!"
"Monster! Monster! Monster!"
Like an orchestra of madness, the endless crying, the tormented souls clawing upon her frame never stopped to rest for even a moment. Her body becoming the vessel of blame, and guilt for a crime she didn't commit. As the cradles remained empty continuing to rock against the harsh winds the forever echoing and fading sounds of a babies coo now becoming a forgotten memory, as the room meant for joy now began to dust in the harsh winter nights. There she laid her body wrapped in a bundle of white cloth, her ruined hands tearing away at the wooden walls screaming sin into the dampened air, alas her tormented soul crying evermore for peace and quiet, for the insanity to stop tearing her hope away.. as for every hour she spent crying a day would pass.. and for every day she spent crying a week would pass.. her cycle continuing to grow and grow almost like a parasite feeding upon her sadness..
As hands coated in cuts and bruises began to trace against the carvings against the cradles frame. "My little sparrows, time will come when you can stretch those beautiful wings and fly." like the rising sun she began to pull herself upwards, her body a broken harp unable to even play even the softest melody, for her once shining appearance now a shadow of her former self.
Like an orchestra of madness, the endless crying, the tormented souls clawing upon her frame never stopped to rest for even a moment. Her body becoming the vessel of blame, and guilt for a crime she didn't commit. As the cradles remained empty continuing to rock against the harsh winds the forever echoing and fading sounds of a babies coo now becoming a forgotten memory, as the room meant for joy now began to dust in the harsh winter nights. There she laid her body wrapped in a bundle of white cloth, her ruined hands tearing away at the wooden walls screaming sin into the dampened air, alas her tormented soul crying evermore for peace and quiet, for the insanity to stop tearing her hope away.. as for every hour she spent crying a day would pass.. and for every day she spent crying a week would pass.. her cycle continuing to grow and grow almost like a parasite feeding upon her sadness..
As hands coated in cuts and bruises began to trace against the carvings against the cradles frame. "My little sparrows, time will come when you can stretch those beautiful wings and fly." like the rising sun she began to pull herself upwards, her body a broken harp unable to even play even the softest melody, for her once shining appearance now a shadow of her former self.
Last edited:
