A single leaf, painted in the colours of autumn lay soundly on the snow, untainted. Nobody would notice. For the common visuals of the snow covered land had been etched into the minds of millions. Details are of un-importance. And if the colour in my cheeks were quick to fade, nobody would notice. For the passing days that my cheeks were rosy and my eyes were bright, not a single being would be eager to point out the change in sight. Flooded with a tsunami of insignificance, I fail to repair my warped sense of thought. Mental chaos. And so, I discard the ability of benevolence and authenticity. Giving in to the masters of compliance and social norms. Nobody would notice.
You stared, hopefully. Silently wishing. Praying, for I was your messiah and you an indebted servant. Though I hung on a wall alone, I never left your side. Dependent on me to show you false truths, I became a crutch for emotional injury. Look at me. You know you want to -- need to in fact-- we know you need to. Who else but I can supply you with sufficient fallacies to get you your fix? You in return gift me the pleasure of watching you. Witnessing you self-destruct. Your broken spirit, an untold desolation. Beg me for the reassurance you seek and never avert your eyes from my gaze. And if anyone asks, tell them we’re fine.
Do you feel that? Your body, becoming a playground for the children of discontent. They race, eager to trample the presence of selflessness. It begins a mere itch, meaningless. Nothing more than a passing sensation. But that’s all it takes. A predestined ambush. Bodies of bitter soldiers charge at the dome that conceals your truth. Slaughtered purity, defeated compassion. Its sinless existence washed away by the torrential rain of corruption. Inside the tainted soil it breeds. Opportunist. Thereupon the battlefield of resentful longing, it blossoms, its sight painfully beautiful. And within the historic ruins of the mind, there begins confusion. For spite still envelops the air, its discarded appearance does nothing to alter its everlasting occupancy. O envy, envy! Wherefore art thou, envy?
