Could I be so bold?
To tell you the whispers in my ears
As you glimpse into empty eyes
The sweet mother
telling her little child to come home
Lost little child with no soul
To come home
To be home
To be a memory once more

seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from Syria
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from Australia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Belgium
Could I be so bold?
To tell you the whispers in my ears
As you glimpse into empty eyes
The sweet mother
telling her little child to come home
Lost little child with no soul
To come home
To be home
To be a memory once more
Truth be told I don't remember writing this but it's a nice piece.
Er, nice in my terms.
tw: death
Poetic thing attempt.
Warnings: Indication of death and burning alive.
Because the best way to cherish someone you love is to smelt them and turn them into a weapon right.
Safety
Characters: MC Crezentials, Clovis
Words: 166
Excerpt from Dream Sequence shit I wrote in maths to stay awake AGAIN because yeah
He stands in a clearing, watching a fair haired lady scamper up a tree. Her locks frame a flushed face, fresh with fingernail wounds. A red scarf trails behind her.
"Zircon!" He turns toward the sound, an echo of familiarity ringing in his mind. She does too, but her silver tongued blade flashes in the shadows, reflecting the full moon.
"Zircon! Alive, youthful, my fairest. Tell me your secrets. Show me your ways. COME OUT OF HIDING AND TELL ME YOU BITCH."
A scarred man yells fruitlessly at the trees, gripping a dark, black crystal engraved with an odd, glowing rune. Even in the memory he can feel the way his self recoils from it. And yet...
She drops on him, silently, her weight sinking the dagger neatly through the neck. The man doesn't even have a moment to cry out, his face barely registering surprise before he topples over.
He steps out into the moonlight, and she turns to him, her shadow growing, her eyes two pits of glazed, glimmering dark pits of void. There's still the scarlet wounds on her face, but as the dark pulls away the moonlight, her figure shifts like water, the soft, young figure becoming more lanky, her hair retreating into a choppy haircut, hazelnut brown.
He looks at them. The lips part. "This is who I am, the ████. Only a ██████. Bound. Betrayed."
"What?" But the memory slips away, and the last thing he glimpses is him sighing over his older, dead self, picking up the gem with care and tucking it inside a scarlet scarf.
Sometimes in the middle of my scattered dreams
Nightmares, memories, indistinguishable
I ask myself
Am I remembering you?
Or are you becoming me?
But there's no answer
Because there's only one of us
And yet I don't know which one is breathing
and which one is dying.