This was a short experimental piece inspired by the fake movie trailer. (It'll always be real in my heart~) Anyhow, the piece is not meant to be read literally, or understood.
It was meant to convey my feelings when watching the trailer.
I hope, as a fellow fan, you can understand these un-wordable feelings of mine.
Or for you thinkers out there, I love leaving ambiguosity for the reader to decipher, and imagine. Just think poetically. :D
I apologize beforehand for the grammar mistakes. If life was ideal...meaning would be nonexistent.
It seems so long ago to him that he found himself bleeding profusely, legs ruined, eyes blinded by a sheet of red.
He lies on the damp floor, screams and yells erupting around him, lives as fragile as bubbles.
It seems so long ago to him, that he saw the same back covered by the purple kimono, drenched in crimson, but it has gone.
Dyed a dark red, he finds himself spinning in frenzy and hate.
What has happened?
There is silence, dead and stifling. Death is in the air, watching and laughing, amused as hell.
In the darkness, however, the white band waves warmly at him, like an old friend. Legs cut, and chest heaving, the wearer is standing alone, still and firm against the dimming evening light of the battleground. His hair, pale as the clouds on a lazy summer day, act as reminders of days sought. Even then, blood blemishes the white cloak.
The past unsheathes its blade; he reaches towards the last ray cast off by his steel, a grimy and black hand. At the last second, he clenches his fist, as if unsure of himself, whether his dirty hand can touch such a bright light.
Regret questions his soul, he is shaken. But when he sees him-cloaked in blood and filth-breathe, the muscles in his back contracting, he feels an eternity.
Eternity, in a single breath.