Forsaken
By. Bento Box
09/25/01
---
Wake up,
Grab a brush and put a little (makeup),
Grab a brush and put a little,
Hide the scars to fade away the (shakeup)
Hide the scars to fade away the,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
Here you go create another fable
The soft whirring and spinning of a snake lashing out. The sharp fangs sank into the soft flesh, and silence fell. It was thundering, consuming, overwhelming and drowning.
The shock rippled like a wave in the silence and everything was frozen to create another memory in time.
It was broken by a lost scream of rage and agony already embraced in insanity. Chaos broke loose in a blur of revenge and bloodlust.
Blood fell from both sides, but the retreat left only one death. Already the skies wept and He who cried, laughed instead.
The face and hands swam in blood, and the rain that fell was red.
Then the truth turned into denial.
You wanted to,
Grab a brush and put a little makeup,
You wanted to,
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup,
You wanted to,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table,
You wanted to,
He stared at the emptiness. It was a tangible, visible thing. It laughed at him quietly, in a slow way that made him somewhat baffled.
The laughter turned into a mocking whisper and it wrapped around him in a silky wave. "Poor, poor boy. Delusional boy. Still holding onto your nightmare? Pathetic boy."
He froze and everything inside went numb. 'No.'
"Too weak to let go, too weak to realize the truth." It continued on in a slow drawl.
"You're hiding behind a mask of lies. The trail of blood scars your flesh and you still cling to your nightmare of reality. So weak. So weak."
'NO!'
"Let go......."
I don't think you trust,
In, my, self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die, Die,
"Let him go, let him go, let him go!"
They cried in vain to the outer deafness of his ears. Inside, he cried with them.
A distant glimmer in his tortured mind's eye of a fallen angel He had shunned. He had taken the angel away again in His jealousy, in His cruelty, as His punishment.
Time passed in a storm of bloody red and they tasted of the screams inside the broken man's soul. The whole world screamed around him, at him, and he was trapped inside a cycle of never-ending rain.
The voices outside were sad, and he felt their cold hands press against him, calling to him, trying to draw him out.
He hated them all. They were not the one he wanted, not the fallen angel.
He cried for the fallen one.
For the lost one.
Wake up,
Grab a brush and put a little (makeup),
Grab a brush and put a little,
Hide the scars to fade away the (shakeup)
Hide the scars to fade away the,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
Here you go create another fable
There were new scars everyday and the pale skin grew paler, but the hand that held the bloody knives grew tighter and stronger in their grips.
The fingers were long and elegant, but the dark fluid that pulsed through them was poisoned.
He gazed at his hands in the darkness and brought them up to his face.
He was tainted, unworthy; God had taken his angel away because he was too stained. He screamed in his mind as he coated his face with the blood. He was stained, far beyond any cleansing.
Yet, even under the paint of red, the face was of a lost soul weeping silently and whispering for God to feel this pain that controlled him and consumed him whole until he burned, alight in flames of sorrow.
He could not let go of the pain.
You wanted to,
Grab a brush and put a little makeup,
You wanted to,
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup,
You wanted to,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table,
You wanted to,
He was standing over the ground, in the center of the one place he had so abhorred in the past. Just another irony.
The others had been surprised when he had broken his silence to state quietly that he wished for his angel to lay upon the grounds of his most hated enemy.
He had not attended with the others, retreating afterwards into his sanctuary.
But now, in the cold wind with the heavens open around him, staring down at him, he stood over the place of burial.
He felt cold.
Why had he come?
To say good-bye.
Could he really?
He couldn't.
The entire scene was a lie.
A lie!
He shouldn't be here. Be anywhere close to here.
He was so cold inside.
I don't think you trust,
In, my, self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die
In my, self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die
"You have to eat." The voice was soft, but commanding. It would have brook no arguments whatsoever in the past. It was no longer the past though and it could not make the sullen man listen.
"You have to let go." The voice was lightly accented, filled with anger and pain.
He gazed out at them with a single golden eye. The face was impassive and the eye dry, but they could see the figure falling behind the gold. He was screaming endlessly.
He had nothing left to live for, except to give his pain to the one was the cause for it. For it and countless others. God had given him pain, so he would give Him thus in return. The pain would never end in its turmoil, and he would make the world cry for him for he could not. The tears would not come, only blood.
But the misery continued to sing.
Father, Father, Father, Father,
Father/ Into your hands/I/commend my spirit,
Father, into your hands,
The days meant nothing to him; they had ceased being something long ago.
Even what had once brought pleasure and satisfaction, now brought him only agonizing memories and the blood would fill his vision.
The small amount of pleasure had ended completely on the day he looked down. He had never looked down.
He stared into the bloody face of his victim.
Why have you forsaken me,
In your eyes forsaken me,
In your thoughts forsaken me,
In your heart forsaken, me oh,
He screamed.
He saw the fallen one, the sacred one, the treasured one of whom half of his soul had gone to in death. The angel who haunted him even as his eyes stung from not closing.
The perfect lips were colorless, the blood drained from the delicate face where it poured forth into a pool from the slit in the neck.
He cried.
He fell to his knees and cried. Not tears of blood, but the other, stinging tears that only brought a choking, sobbing, and gasping for breath. The hunger for air and space and freedom, because he was being suffocated. The tears that streaked his face.
And he cried to the heavens, for Him to feel the drowning of his heavy heart.
He cried endlessly, tears that came forth from a stolen past and a broken future.
He cried for the forgiveness he did not deserve.
'Forgive me.'
The tears spilled.
'Forgive me.'
The blood flowed forth in a steady, smooth river.
'Forgive me.'
The lifeless body fell forwards and everything was stained in red.
Trust in my self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die,
In my self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die.
There were no farewells, no letters, no last words to tell the world why. The world did not have to know.
They buried his body next to his fallen angel.
He had never known that he was, in reality, the fallen one. The one who fell from grace, only to rise again.
There were no tears for him, just sorrow for another one lost.
In their minds, they saw his bloodstained face and his endless tears.
And the smile beneath it, that spoke of freedom, at last.
---
Author's Notes: Yes, another angst-ridden piece starring Farfie and Nagi. ;^^ You should know by now I seem to love my angst, and major OOCness and different (from the original) storyline. XD I started to write this little baby during Spanish class, and that went over into the assembly thing during third period, and also 4th period. Heh. Finished it a few minutes before the bell for lunch.
Lyrics are from System Of A Down's song, "Chop Suey", and no copyright infringement intended. This fic is profit-free, so please refrain from suing me for using characters/songs not of my making. ;;^_^