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The Damned

A Melanie Black Short Story

· Short Stories by Melanie Black

As lonesome as we are, we try to create hope for the future

A future we recognize already as a mere fantasy 


We cry for ourselves 


Since the ashes blew away, we are the darkest things remaining

Even compared to the lack of reflection that surrounds us

Penetrating fire has burned through doors, releasing tears on command


We cry for ourselves


It is an inescapable void, like the raindrops that disappear into the ocean 

A single tear can be something we never knew existed

And yet...


We cry for ourselves


Seared with pain- when does it dissipate? 

These undying lies and confessions of false emotions…

What have we done to deserve this storm that toppled our faith? 


We cry for ourselves

We bury our heads in the mounds of bone

And disappear like the flames that once were