Willing Submission

 Devil's ruin,

Desolate waltz,

The second incision yeilding a permanent stream.

These days were cruel: These days were blind.

Dedication to the darkest of these:

Building up an unmarked crown

{How forgiving the deepest bowing naive}

The whispered seed: Insatiable, decieved.

The final blow: disappoint me.

Consumed, nostalgic for an ideal.

                                      Imagine...

Servitude so filling...

A delusion running so deep...                  

A submission I can no longer afford.

I recognized that look of disgust and pity,

Once directed at me,

Now seeping from my own features.

Still it haunts me.

Reviews

[Lorry]

Oh wow, and nice and other positive words too. There is no greater fear than seeing the monster someone else was rub off subconsciously, as we begin to fade from who we were into what they made us become. That truly is haunting.

[Comewhatevermay]

It was. Thank you, Nemo.

[Lorry]

You're welcome :)

[The Cracken]

Very powerful piece of literature, I love it.