I was listening to melancholic music and this is what came to my mind:)
A short drabble on what happens inside Clint as he is being taken under control by Loki.
It isn't poetry but the style is poetic. Furthermore i have never written something like this, so if you feel you should give me some constructive criticism please feel free to.
That's all so enjoy!
AVENGERS
Under control
Blue.
No… light blue, electric even.
A sudden weight filling his chest… Cold.
A foreign sensation, in a world full of emotions and feelings such one had never been felt, had never been comprehended.
It's overthrowing, confusing… freezing.
What should he do with it?
The burden grows heavier and a shape forms: alien, tentacles, grabbing and filling his insides with complete and utter void, darkness.
Emotions feel remote, from another world… Maybe they are?
What is kindness? The wonderful feeling of tenderness, the shine of fulfillment in saving, helping, caring.
Sympathy and apathy mix together, love and greed…
What is emotion?
Suddenly all goes hollow, heart taken over, the mind tries to fight…
It goes blank; intoxicating, the weight digs deeper.
Memories slowly disappear; images flashing by like a broken videotape, fuzzy. Faces are nothing more than white mannequins, hollow shells of someone he once knew.
Intellect slowly dissipating. Reason almost gone.
What is his purpose now?
The blue has completely taken over and he returns to reality, eyes refocusing.
Loki.
Right.
His master.
Wait… what?
The cold increases tenfold and all doubt is gone.
His Master.
"Yes, you have a heart"
But now it isn't his anymore, nor is his mind, nor are his thoughts, nor is his body, nor is his soul.
He's just a puppet to be used.
Whatever his master wishes for he is to provide; that is his only reason to live.
Shoot. Kill.
Die.
...