Monstrous Devotion (It Will Devour You Whole)

Spider Web Lies Of A Thousand Mirror Eyes

Winding corridors of dust covered shelves, missing the little hatchling who wandered the halls. Wispy smoke reaches out, a frail finger tipping a half finished book into waiting hands. The ink has long dried, but the memories have not, so they take up a brush. Swirling the fine bristles into the ink, staining the pages with shadow and tar. Another name, another chapter, one more world to add to the archives. They set the brush down, dabbing away the ink with a damp cloth as they gather stardust into their arms, weaving it into the image of a spider's web. Engraving it into the leather covers with sunglow pins, the name shimmers in the faint light of the lanterns. A moment of hesitation before they turn, the doors silently closing behind them. Distant, ephemeral stories await their arrival, and a vast archive trapped in time can always wait just a little bit longer.

Heaven's Sanctuary (A Dragon's Hoard It Becomes)

Upon a throne Far above the clouds Surrounded in Eden He gazes down At the scurrying mortals Each little thing Catches his eye And draws his gaze To mimic a copy Into an archive of memories Though, when travelers near He draws away Allowing his dearest center stage He watches Distant and quiet As wanderers arrive And as they leave One by one To never return Alone once more He turns to his beloved Drawing them into his arms Mouthing at their neck And renewing the marks He had previously left on their skin His darling may be his devotee But sometimes he feels As though he is the worshipper Desecrating their pious body Bringing an angel into ruin But he doesn't mind Even a god must show adoration To the one who holds his heart Knowing only eternity awaits them Within this hidden sanctuary

I think some people forget that some literature and some media is meant to be deeply uncomfortable and unsettling. It's meant to make you have a very visceral reaction to it. If you genuinely can't handle these stories then you are under no obligation to consume them but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest or most disturbing parts of life, then you should do some introspection.

Remorse Is Not Forgiveness (And Forgiveness Won't Bring Them Back)

@m1d-45 A little piece inspired by some of your writing. I hope you'll like it!

The quiet fade to black

Waking to familiar scenes

Of an unfamiliar world

Only seen through fragile screens

The world croons in welcome

Though its sentiments aren't shared

As the people call for execution 

As beloved characters turn their blade

The ones built from ashes to glory

Now set their hunt upon thee

Run and hide

The clock is ever ticking

You will always be caught

So face your death with dignity 

Your blood runs starshine bright

Only seen in the burning light

But it's far too late

Your eyes shimmer and glaze 

Blank and dull and unseeing

Life fades from your body

Corpse cooling in the shade

There is no time for regret

No time for forgiveness 

Sunbeam golden chains bind them tight

As prayers fall from their lips

As the world mourns around them

Their mistake is unforgivable

And thus they must pay the price 

I think some people forget that some literature and some media is meant to be deeply uncomfortable and unsettling. It's meant to make you have a very visceral reaction to it. If you genuinely can't handle these stories then you are under no obligation to consume them but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest or most disturbing parts of life, then you should do some introspection.

The Myth Of A Haven (Even Rumors Tell A Truth)

Within a sanctuary Far from home A place only the dreamers know A paradise for the lost Weary and wandering Not a human soul you may find Though the keepers may show A being adorned with stars A cloak of fresh sage green Draped lightly upon his shoulders He offers a quiet place to rest To forget the woes of reality And perhaps your eyes are drawn To the markings left on his skin Bruises reminiscent of teeth Perhaps you'd offer a hand In return for his kindness Though he will wave you off every time He bears them with pride A blessing from his god Only earned after hours of worship Something you may never understand The price of devotion The reward of adoration The thrill of leaving your fate In the grasp of someone else Perhaps it is not for you But in the end What does it matter You do not belong in their world Soon you'll be nothing more Then the ghost of a memory That walked the lands Where he shall live Your paths are fated to diverge So listen well And heed this story of mine Leave them be For you and I are chalk and dust And they are a binary star Adrift in a universe far from ours

The Universe Loves You (Its People Are Blind But It Hopes That Forgiveness Can Still Be Found)

A small piece based off of some of @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry's works.

When your blood runs gold

Who will you run to?

When your wounds fade 

Into shining star silver

Who will you trust?

When the world hunts for your head

For a crime you did not commit

Who deserves your favor?

When the world is kind

Where its people are not

Where will you turn?

When you are scorned

Turned away with glare and blade

Will you return to its cradle

Be embraced in its loyalty?

The world knows and will never turn

You will find safety here

Amongst the fauna and the flora

Your reign is undisputed 

The world knows

Its people shall know in time

So I wonder

Where you'll end up next

Glory To The Faithful (The World Screams In Its Anguish)

His hands twitched, his skin rubbed red and raw, his breaths escaping his chest with a rasping wheeze. Apologies carved into his chest as he claws at his arms, the stain of gold stark on his skin. He had not left the cell in days, scrubbing at the stone bricks in vain. Glowing faintly in the dark, he sobs tearless cries at the cruel reminder of his mistakes, as the waters bleed crimson. His blood over his God's, though now he began to doubt his claim of fervent devotion, he has no right, but he is far too greedy to offer its sacrifice just yet. Cradling his vision close, bloody streaks tracing the engraved constellation he knew was his, proof of his status even if he were to fall from grace. Memories with jagged edges that tear and spill open the truths he wished not to see. Iron to his eyes and thread through his lips, he can not hear and no longer can he feel, penance for his sins. A warden of a prison that holds only one. He burns alone, deep beneath the dark waters.

Fallen From Grace (The Tale Of A Desecrated God)

The vengeance of a wretched god

Whose forgiveness is cruel

And their hunger unabating

They eat and eat

Consume til they burst

Adoration and devotion rots their teeth

Guilt and sorrow taints their tongue

Blood, sweat and tears seep into their throat

As souls line their stomach

It's not enough

Nothing is enough

A god hungers

And a soul yearns

For the piece that was torn

Lost in darkened void

They ache for something to fill the hole

That is all that remains of what they lost

To feel complete and whole

To return to a time before 

When things were kinder, simpler 

When hunger was not all that they were

@myuni-moon A little piece inspired by your writing. I hope you'll enjoy it.