My writing

Walls of silver knives

When they came, they told me. To build a wall of blades.

I strained my eyes and looked at them, with rainbow tears hugging pale cheeks.

I picked up the silver, one at a time.

And built those things an empire.

When they came, they told me. To build a wall of blades.

To hold the rest that remains, of her far too young, too happy of a face, make sure she cannot escape this place,

they say. And they left me with dreams of my one day.

I rolled in shattered chandeliers and overfilled the sinks with those rainbow tears. I faithfully analysed, while I fell into deep black skies. I laughed hysterically, through blurred vision. And cut those puppet strings. No more. No more. No more I say. I screamed and smeared their ideologies across the floor in my blood.

And built those things an empire.

I have a palace.

Divine and built the same, as those four silver walls.

That is not screaming, it is breathing beauty. It the theme song that plays in the background, of this wonderfully isolated place.

It has worktops of marble.

Everything sprinkled with white.

It is pulled by puppet strings, a delicately unique show.

Outside, there are walls.

Walls of silver knives.

A deep red rose petal falls.

When they came, they told me, To build a wall of blades.

And I built those things an empire.

I scream.

And smear their ideologies against the palace walls with my blood.


Thank you so much for reading, I really loved writing this one, I really felt every word as I was writing it and editing. I hope you enjoyed reading!

Love, Misstery


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