STANDARD DISCLAIMER APPLIED: I do not own any of the characters mentioned, and the poem is the property of the poet, Stevie Smith (1903-1971).
Warnings: Not much, mainly angst, and hints of TH (its so mild that it can be taken as just friendship.) So, I'll leave it to the readers' choice on whether its shonen ai.
(Words in italics: poem)
And yes, since I was running a fever when I wrote this ficlet (ages ago...), my mind was not working too well when I was writing it... so I'm really sorry if any part of this fic sounded incoherent.
Not Waving but Drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I had thought that death was the end of all my anguish, but it was not to be so.
Even now, in death, I am still crying within.
Even now, that I am long dead and is working as a God of Death, at times I still yearn to die, as in the incident at Kyoto, when Muraki stirred up the waves of guilt and sorrow within me.
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
When I was still alive, because of my unnatural eyes colour, I was rejected and treated as an outcaste of society. All my life, I have yearned to be seen and treated as human, but to them, I, Asato Tsuzuki, was an inhuman purple-eyed demon that they would gladly be ridded off.
The pain arose from all the constant rejections, was driving my sanity further and further away...
Finally, when the final straw was laid with the death of the one who had shared my soul, I was driven into a state of psychological imbalance and I was left drowning in the darkness of my soul.
Poor chap, he always love larking
And now he's dead
And even now, I am still seen as worthless in many eyes. I am just a piece of garbage who hardly do much but lark, laze and gobble down sweet delights
Few ever try to see beyond this fool's mask of mine.
Few truly notice the anguish and pain within me.
Few ever bother to understand that all I wish for is that of simple acceptance.
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
I remember the time long ago, when I was stranded in constant madness, with only few moments of awareness of reality.
No matter how hard I try then, there was no other way out from all those burning miseries that I was drowning in, so I voluntarily chose to walk down the path of death.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
When I was still alive, icy coldness was my constant companion, wrapping its arms around me and pulling me into its tight and suffocating embrace. This coldness that was born from the guilt and sorrow within me, was slowly degenerating my soul's cells, killing them off one by one.
And even now, when so many years have flew by since my death, the coldness still remains...
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
I have always been too far out all my life, too far beyond the reach of most beings. I have always locked my inner self far away from the prying eyes of the world.
Only he, only the emerald-eyed beauty who has the power to read my hidden thoughts and feelings, without me revealing anything, may stand a chance against my inner demons and rescue me from the emptiness of my soul that I have buried myself in.
Only he, my young partner may be able to keep me afloat and pull me out from the sea of sorrow that I am drowning in.
But, should I let him in? Should I let this one of the precious few people, who actually able to beyond my fool's mask and into my inner depth in?
For instead of rescuing me, he may end up being dragged down by all the heavy burden of my grief and be drowned alongside myself into nothingness...
The End.
(C&C is very much appreciated.)