By Leah Berger
Light pierces through the window, painting me in splashes of light.
But then—trapped. In the haze of the dark. Do you ever feel empty? The days go by and so do you. You try and try and try but sometimes you fall. But you force yourself to rise, reaching toward the light.
Night always comes. The shadow creeps toward you, reaching out with its ebony claws. You can’t escape. How could you? The sea of onyx takes you under. The waves of silk swallow you whole. It’s welcome.
Sometimes the streams of light are worse. They light you up, but it hurts. Sometimes the fire burns you alive, smoke billowing into the sky. Sometimes you stay rooted in the ground, the fire seeping its warm embrace into your skin.
Dreams are easy. The dark is easy. Light can be harsh. If the sky is alight, it’s so much harder for a star to be found.
We’re so fragile. If we burn too bright, we burst. If we fall too deep, we break. Which one would you choose? A life in the great chasm of the forgotten or a life in the sky? Either way, trapped. But what would a star be without the velvet nothing?
Piercing gold or seeping ebony? The night bleeds from the day and the sun stabs into the night. A vicious cycle.
Light drains from the sky, stabbing my world with streaks of dark.