the_scapegoat: (Burn in Hell)
[personal profile] the_scapegoat
Your hands are dirty
You lie in filth
Tears come to your eyes
Get up and wipe them away
You try to breathe
It is so hard
Every thought a stillbirth
Your gaze so empty

You suspect you feel
that you are nothing
that there is no room in paradise for you
You whine and beg for mercy
at the end of your time
You're sorry for everything

Where is your god
Great and powerful
When will his kingdom come
Cold and magnificent
Start praying and shut up
No sympathy
No
No sympathy

Your lips are bloody
You wet yourself
You are pale with
insanity and in the face
You try to think
Totally destroyed
Every promise that was important to you
is no longer worth a thing

Do you believe that the tide will still turn
Do you want this insanity to end
You whine and beg for mercy
You're sorry for everything
You pray to God but God has
No time no time no sympathy




All there was was darkness. So very far from the light he had known. Immobile, heavy chains bound him from head to foot, and on him, blocking out all, jagged rocks pressed against him. But that pain was nothing to the still searing agony in his back. Stumps. That was all Raphael had left him wings. The physical pain was nothing compared to the pain of humiliation and abandonment, nor the anger that was growing.

That anger fermented down in that abyss. From that anger came the hate. A hate so deep and unrelenting. Yes, the Grigori disobeyed Him, knowingly and willingly. They conspired, making a pact with each other to stand fast in their choice. But He had overreacted, he believed that. No trial, no appeal, just immediate judgement and execution. Because this torment, this punishment was execution indeed. He had stripped him of everything.

Love. A gift given by Him to His last creation, but denied to His Host. Knowledge shared with them condemned. Their children slaughtered as monsters. To be kept in the Abyss until Judgement Day.

No. NO, he would not!

In his rage and pain he screamed, long and loud, wishing that the sound could be carried all the way to Him and knowing it wouldn't.

Bones mended, reforming him into something else. Time passed, meaningless to him, but still too long. They came to him. Grotesque, broken wings dragging, two hundred who had Fallen with him worked to free him. The Grigori still his.

Freed, he gazed up out of the Abyss to beyond that which he could see. He ascribed to him all sin, then he would earn that responsibility. Earn it well.

Something called to him, and he turned to the darkness once more. With his Grigori around him, he walked towards the sound in full knowledge of what called and what his path now was.
From:
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
User
Account name:
Password:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
Subject:
HTML doesn't work in the subject.

Message:

 
Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

June 2010

S M T W T F S
  12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
2728 2930   

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 23rd, 2017 04:46 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios