La mémoire se Fane she whispered… and then whispered she
This life is not mine and you are not me
Perhaps just a fraction… perhaps just a start
A small tiny fraction of what makes the whole heart
She did not like she but she adored she
She wondered what time she stopped being “me”
When she laid forfeit to this life of her own?
To be Eleanor Rigby every time she left home?
Hiding behind this mask she called she…
When, she wondered… will I become “me”–
~Delivery- a setting free from something that restricts or burdens~
♥ . ♥ . ♥ . ♥
Raphael stooped and stared out of the tiny window of his living quarters– the only space that allowed any light to shine through. He wondered how it was that it had all come to this. He knew his father was proud of him… that running the family business was a thing he should be proud of. He had always liked the idea… had always been proud that it came so easily to him… wasn’t he?
But now, there was him. He had entered his life and delivered him from evil like Jesus Christ himself he thought cynically with his distaste for such beliefs. Now there was warmth… now– no pain. He wondered if he had ever allowed himself to truly feel before He jumpstarted his long dormant heart.
Everything was different now. How could he continue this business… this venture of treating human beings like animals? He hadn’t thought much of it before… hadn’t even seen it in that light in fact. But now, all at once– he wasn’t sure he was right.
The Daily Post