The Sun of the West

{“IF I were to flee from this world If I were to collapse into a deep slumber, and when I emerge from that demise, I would yearn for gravity to tug me by my arms and legs and grant me my wishes. I would blow out my birthday candles in disassociation to the happening encircling me. My breath hitched as my flesh scathed underneath the Sun of the West. Skin scorched with flames from the withdrawal of people and society, reluctancy coming to be my Azrael. An escapee, I recite with both hands annulled into one another, from the pain of reality, I blew out the fire surrounding the battered cake and rather than myself. The second version of death had spared me a dance, to be out of touch for a quick second, my soul emerged into another realm. When I awake from death. I occasionally take a quick glance around the barriers that I come to call home. I have nothing to lose, nobody to lose, nobody to miss if I were to vacate; I clasped against the sheets and glanced at myself in the fun mirrors of the Amusement attractions that is said to hold the true form of ourselves in all accuracy; unrecognizable. That is what I am to myself; unrecognizable from her cheerful childhood. That child who cherished every single individual around her was long gone. I was gone, Thou I was not a ghoul. When I fell, I fell completely like the devil in its truest form.”}