Death of an object

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story takes you into my personal life. It reveals the truest depth of personal experience

Submitted: May 19, 2014

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Submitted: May 19, 2014

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You were once a shining star, great prospects in life. You once burnt the world with your gaze. As usual the devil caught you in his grasp.
Your tracks now lost into the netherworld. 
You lost yourself and your ways. Never to be seen again.
Your eyes now burn with ignorance. Your perfected gaze is just a dull field of oculet ruins. 
Your visual aspects now ruined by true arrogance. 
The waves no longer move again for you. You may walk with others. But in the truest sense you are the loneliest of all. One gaze upon your eyes, reveal the whole truth. The incompatibility of yourself, amongst others.
You are the shadow who will never bear the fruit.
Instead you turn yourself to old ruins and decay.
You no longer walk a grand path, instead you turn yourself into a common whore.
The whore who bears fruit to the attention of one another.
One look upon your gaze reveals the passion still hidden within. The clouded mind of the common whore who reveals nothing but contempt. You are now an object of scorn by one but an object of seconds to another.
You grand path is continually lost. You know what you are, You know who you are, but you will never fulfill your destiny. You sold yourself to the devil. The temptation to bear the fruits grew too big for your petite mind. Thus all is lost. 
You can't understand my gaze and never had. The trust was never there thus you never moved the levels like others did. You cleared others which had already been pursued.
But you laughter and voice no longer reaches me, I've transcended into something other than yourself. As such I'm out of reach. Thus you got to settle. The move you only have left before you checkmate yourself. 
Passion is all but a word to you. There is never true passion to be moved.
Your life is a waste. Thus you sit in a circle of decay. Never growing, never maturing. Instead you lose all your inhibition around temptation. It lures you to the forbidden fruits. Thus a stag must be a stag, and you'll always be the thing you changed into.
One who cannot even be true to thyself must be a fake. Your life is an illusion.
Grow into the waste that you are. Pursue only that of which you know. There is no feelings of passion anymore as you wasted your chance to be civil. By becoming this object of scorn.


© Copyright 2020 DeprivedEntity. All rights reserved.

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