Another quick song-fiction. This song reminds me very much of the blond bomber. It's not as story like as the first one, but I figured it got the message across. I believe it seems to fit with his angry attitude. His pride in his art and the fact he doesn't care about the shit people throw at him. :)
Song: Ashes
Artist: Five Finger Death Punch
Character: Deidara
Negative and positive thoughts welcomed.
Disclaimer: I do not own the character Deidara. I do not own the song or any copyrights toward the artist.
There was a boy, old enough to know, but young enough not to care. He flew around on a clay bird, his blond hair in the breeze. He looked down to the small town he circled around, scowling to himself.
"You don't understand me, and you probably never will. Got a tendency to self destruct, and a soft spot for the filth."
He had his hand up in a fist, his elbow on his knee. The chakra in his body, moving through his hand. The small hands, munched and munched.
"A hair trigger temperament. A switchblade for a tongue. Walking one man genocide, black belt in corrupt."
His hand opened, and three small bumble bees laid in his palm. The tongues licked around the teeth, the mutation on his limbs. He threw them below, letting them grow. They buzzed toward the earth, covered in tiny little ants.
"Everything I touch turns to ashes, falls away, falls away. Everything I touch turns to ashes, slips right through my hands."
The one corner of the village, was covered in a ray of colours. Orange, yellow, red and brown. It was art at it's truest. The man's angered face, turned around into a grin, he could hear the scream and hear the shouts. People experiencing his joy in life.
"Love me, hate me, isolate me, everyday that I'm alive. Strait up, mentally unstable. You don't have to like my life."
He opened the mouth on his hand, storing more clay he held n pouches on his belt.
"I'm a jinx, a curse, some say the worst. I'm a savage, rabid beast. Been called so many fucking things,
it doesn't affect me in the least."
More loud explosions went off beneath him, more cries could be heard. The air was filling with dust and debris. The blond hair man's grin grew, his blue eye's began to shine in delight. This was his pride, and his job.
"I've stolen, lied, been crucified, but I don't regret a thing. I'm an egocentric, masochist with a sadist's point of bleak. Everything I touch turns to ashes, falls away, it falls away. Everything I touch turns to ashes. Slips right through my hands."
The man's memory began to drift, thinking of the child hood he once lived. His delicate, smiling face darkened into an angry grimace. The bombs he sent below, began to grow in size, causing more and more damage to the houses and streets below.
"Love me, hate me, isolate me, everyday that I'm alive. We live to prove you wrong, it's easy when your heart is filled with ice."
The bird flapped it's wings, the blond's hair flew, the sun shined down brilliantly.
"Chapters in my life define me. Changed me into this deprived, strait up, mentally unstable, you don't have to like my life."
He flew down looking around the the burning buildings. People laid in the ashes, chard and crispy. Burnt and bloody. He smiled at his final piece, his art was his whole life. He jumped off the large bird, that settled his wings, perching on the ground. The blond bent down and grabbed a pile of grey and black power. The pile blew in the breeze, and fell through the spaces of his fingers.
"Everything I touch turns to ashes, falls away, falls away. Everything I touch turns to ashes. Slips right through my hands."
He jumped on the bird and flew away in a speed, his job was complete, but only for today.
