Burn

The stretch of death and decay blows in from the north, As centuries turn to dust. Darkness engulfs barren carcasses of what was, forlorn rain drips from the weeping sky, coating every strand of my auburn hair, Weighing it down with heavy despair. Whilst vultures circle around impending doom, swooping down, pecking at flecks of flesh, before I sweep them away, only temporarily keeping them at bay. Angels and demons watch on with excitement, betting on my soul’s heavenly ascent or slow demise. Removing an ebony sack from my back, I rummage through, searching for bits of gauze. What seems like an eternity passes by before I feel cotton at my fingertips. Covering wounded arms, I continue down my path. Blood seeps through the pasty white fabric, turning my arms in patchwork shades of varying pinks. Thorned rose stems line the pathway, digging into exposed feet. Flames of judgment burn in the distance, getting closer, the searing heat becomes unbearable. What was once pink has now charred and turned black, flaking off and blowing away with the harsh, unrelenting winds. Grabbing the handle, it burns into the palm of my hand. What will the symbol reveal? Heaven or Hell? Both sides wait on bated breath. Heaven awaits, it seems, Or is it all just a bitter dream??