"It is a lie!" I have spoken, the words rolling out of my mouth like thunder. "He is only trying to protect me, it is not his fault."
"I take responsibility for what I have done." Your quiet self-condemnation somehow makes more of an impression than all my refutation. I try to catch your eye, try to keep you from damning yourself with me. You will not bend. I know this. Your steady gaze bores into mine. I know what I am doing, your eyes seem to say, this is my choice. I am screaming in my head. I think that the jurors, the judge, the herald can all hear my shrieks. Perhaps I am screaming out loud. I feel as if I had swallowed glass. But no, I realize that I have been silent while I watch you martyr yourself.
For what, lover? For me? Why cause me more pain? Knowing that you suffer beside me will only increase it. You do not realize this, you only mean to help.
I look towards the herald, and see a faint smile of satisfaction play upon his lips. They knew. They knew all along what we would do, that we would condemn ourselves to save each other. They will use us to punish one another. We have played into their hands. I realize this and hang my head in sorrow. Cruel, cruel world ruled by a cruel, cruel God. What beauty can exist when the Angels burn their own? We are betrayed. I feel a hard knot form in my chest. The anger helps me to breathe past overwhelming despair. As you walk back to your place beside me, I grab your hand. We are both damned, and so we might as well be damned together.
"Guilty! Guilty as charged!" The Herald sings. I am unsurprised. From the corner of my eye, I see a tear slip down the face of our Lord. I have little pity for him.
The marble floor opens up beneath our feet, and we begin our plummet to the earth. I feel you hand ripped from mine, and try to scream. I cannot. I feel heavy, unable to move. I see red, red, red. Red everywhere. Never have I seen so brilliant a hue. There is a searing pain coming from my back. I try to slow my fall, but nothing happens. GOD, my wings? Where are my wings!
"I take responsibility for what I have done." Your quiet self-condemnation somehow makes more of an impression than all my refutation. I try to catch your eye, try to keep you from damning yourself with me. You will not bend. I know this. Your steady gaze bores into mine. I know what I am doing, your eyes seem to say, this is my choice. I am screaming in my head. I think that the jurors, the judge, the herald can all hear my shrieks. Perhaps I am screaming out loud. I feel as if I had swallowed glass. But no, I realize that I have been silent while I watch you martyr yourself.
For what, lover? For me? Why cause me more pain? Knowing that you suffer beside me will only increase it. You do not realize this, you only mean to help.
I look towards the herald, and see a faint smile of satisfaction play upon his lips. They knew. They knew all along what we would do, that we would condemn ourselves to save each other. They will use us to punish one another. We have played into their hands. I realize this and hang my head in sorrow. Cruel, cruel world ruled by a cruel, cruel God. What beauty can exist when the Angels burn their own? We are betrayed. I feel a hard knot form in my chest. The anger helps me to breathe past overwhelming despair. As you walk back to your place beside me, I grab your hand. We are both damned, and so we might as well be damned together.
"Guilty! Guilty as charged!" The Herald sings. I am unsurprised. From the corner of my eye, I see a tear slip down the face of our Lord. I have little pity for him.
The marble floor opens up beneath our feet, and we begin our plummet to the earth. I feel you hand ripped from mine, and try to scream. I cannot. I feel heavy, unable to move. I see red, red, red. Red everywhere. Never have I seen so brilliant a hue. There is a searing pain coming from my back. I try to slow my fall, but nothing happens. GOD, my wings? Where are my wings!
