Author: Gambit86
Rating: PG
Category: Drama/Angst
Disclaimer: I don't own them, yadda yadda yadda, we all know Scifi owns em but they sure don't deserve em.
Author's Note: I know I haven't posted in a number of months, but I thought I'd through this little tidbit out there.
Demons
He watched the man in the room silently.
White.
The walls, the floors, the ceiling, all soaked in purity in the room on the other side of the glass.
My words confuse you
My eyes don't move a blink
He watched the man pace. White on white, innocence tinged with only dark shadows to distinguish shapes. Light reflected everything there was to know. But where he stood, outside the room, it was dark.
He was alone.
Cause it's easier sometimes
Not to be sincere
He'd always been here. Standing on the other side of the glass, watching in his penumbra. Thousands of grains of sand had melted to make the clear barrier he gazed through. They couldn't be resurrected.
Somehow I make you believe
Believe....
This crystalline wall had been made long before him. The man in white saw himself when he looked into it, they always did. They never realized who was really looking back. At the moment, as the dark man watched, he saw his own reflection in the smooth surface. Projected against the white background, it was a lie.
When I speak I cross my fingers
Will you know you've been deceived?
The man in the white room thought he had done terrible things.... Could do terrible things. Actions and innocence were not the same for the man in white, he thought he knew what a terrible thing was, but he had no idea. The man in the dark room He knew and practiced.
I find a need to be the demon
A demon cannot be hurt
It was a religion, without god or science, it was something else. The man in dark only served, he knew what he did, but couldn't stop himself. It was necessary. Nobody knew, and after he'd died someone else would continue.
O, the lies.
Honest is easy
Fiction is where genius lies
Taking a step towards the glass he watched, his eyes never leaving the man in white. The white man looked up, his eyes were blood, and they were primal sin. The dark man was more then that, he was chess, he was sin with a conscious, virtuous sin if there were a thing.
Cause it's easier sometimes
Not to be involved
People died and seasons changed and eventually a new man would be in the white room, but he would still be behind the glass watching. And doing his duty.
I find a need to be the demon
A demon cannot be hurt
Gently his fingertips touched the glass.
If only to break through to the other side.
FIN
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