Just listen to the noises (Null and void instead of voices)

Τhere was this beautiful girl,once

There was this extremely beautiful girl, once

She wore this stylish crown of thorns that only a few people could see, all others were blind to it, they would get blind sighted by her eyes, deer eyes , never been able to take their stare from her face, always failing to see the liquid coral drops running down her skin - often, she d press the thorns deep into her skull, scarring her self lovably, skillfully, deeply........ welcoming the pain, embracing the
taste of her own blood, so warm, so bittersweet, so soothing

there was this beautiful girl once, wearing a crown of thorns and a red dress, only it wasn't really red

there was this beautiful girl once that only a handful of people could see in her entire grace, to all others her aura was invisible, she was just a pair of eyes walking past their lives, they were oblivious to the bloody footsteps that she always left behind - a reminder to no one -  that she had marked their paths, and they had marked the inside of her, forever - or for just a second .

Pretty much the same thing, dearest..

There was this beautiful girl once, so beautiful - so painfully beautiful - that her steps took her in front of a mirror... and she  stood by it, whimsically toying with her head garment, adjusting it , caressing it, bleeding exquisingly once again....

Then something extraordinary happened

The mirror took a liking to the girl. And started talking to her, started bathing her with thousand words, as often mirrors do...

She was taken aback... For the first time someone, could not only see her in full gear, crown and blood and all, but was also not afraid to address the subject.....

The mirror liked the beautiful girl, and tried hard to best reflect her image
Crown and thorns and all

The mirror liked the beautiful girl so it started narrating stories of people, who like her, had stood before it, crowns and thorns and all, and had reflected their own images on its glass

The mirror and the beautiful girl loved eachother deeply

The girl loved the mirror's stories and the mirror loved how the rain would often wash her bleeding hair

She would only ask the mirror's stories and the mirror would only ask of her to be a good girl, and portray on him her best qualities

The mirror often teased her, played with her, made her laugh, or made her cry, sometimes praised her, and other times scolded her

and every night, the mirror would kiss her bloody face goodnight 

But one day, she did a stupid thing

And the mirror did not wish to reflect her image anymore, so it emptied her reflection from its surface

The girl was at a loss......

The mirror was unfair, truth be told, it was only a little stupid mistake , as often, beautiful bloody girls make

nevertheless, the mirror went cold

no more stories did it offer her, no more wounds of hers would it kiss away goodnight

And the beautiful girl became enraged

then, the beautiful girl became wild

no more was she the good girl that she enjoyed herself portraying on her mirror

no more playfully would she wear her thorny crown

The deer eyes turned stormy skies, her mouth -once a tremor christ playground of giggles and promises of tenderness- now vomited ugly forbidden sounds

The beautiful girl picked up a stone and raised her hand, in a threatening gesture

"I will break you , mirror!!!!!" she exclaimed in outrage

'I will shatter you, for not been faithful to me, for abandoning me,for lying to me, for not respecting all the truths we shared, for turning cold to everything we showed eachother, how dare you reflect others, how dare you selling out my story of my image!!!!!

"I shared no truths of mine, I showed you nothing really mine" answered the estranged mirror
"you got what you wished for, beautiful girl.... you got stories, you got love and you got what you treasured most of all.... a reflection of your true self, your best qualities, the emancipation of your truest potencials through me, through your mirroring onto me... I will never sell out your reflection, but the essence of your aura and the taste of your blood running down my surface is mine to keep"

"I will break you mirror!!!!" she repeated, her now being a queen of regrets , seconds before throwing the stone


"να σου πω μια ιστορια?........" ψιθυρισε ο καθρεφτης
and his glass fingers traced a dried blood path on her forehead down her lips

she paused for a second

just for a splitting second before she made her move..


 How do you feel? That is the question
But I forget you don't expect an easy answer
When something like a soul becomes initialized
And folded up like paper dolls and little notes
You can't expect a bit of hope




So while you're outside looking in
Describing what you see
Remember what you're staring at is me

...

 



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