Someone I once spoke to wrote this. He was an emo guitarist who spent his time writing songs. I knew him best as Isaac the xXSuicideNotes_forJezabel.

"Such fragile light but it strengthens me

While losing site of reality

My will to live and my sanity

Are lost in these dreams

And these days I wake up in sheets

Of velvet far too red

With dreams of murderous intent

My victims are always dead

I haven't felt my heart beat in far too long

My complexion is bleak and my reflection's all gone

Pray for my salvation

Because I'd like to take my life

If I could

But I'll never get that chance again

My benediction was the day you understood

These black wings manifest of sin

And it broke your heart

And you fell apart

Sorry I don't know what to say

Too bad it had to be this way

Too bad it had to end this way

I'm not alive

But this isn't death

I'm never quite free from this pain

How quiet now when there's nothing left

Your heart beats with every breath

Your warmth surrounds and it burns in me

My wings turn white and my chains set free

I'll hold you close and I'll let you see

The beauty in such tragedy"

When I was younger, I was a free little angel with the purest white wings. The sky was my eternal maximum. But one day out of the blue, I was attacked. I don't know why or what or how it even happened but I was never myself again. My soft wings were clipped and the white became tainted black. Soon, I too was chained. I was chained to the stone wall of a diminutive sinister room and pleas were never heard. The obscurity of it all was consuming and it ate away at me. Lies became the truth and the truth became lies. Dreams turned into nightmares and smiles into frowns. Happiness, like love, no longer exists. Love was for fairytales and happiness was just a word. Colors blended and faded until only shadows and crimson stood still. Sitting there in the night, I wanted to die. Disregarded, I was dead, dead in the eyes of humanity. And a part of me wanted the world to die, too. I didn't covet being alone. I still struggle to become unchained and my wings are still tainted. But though reality and sanity had been undefined, a shimmer of light shown down through the shadows. Hope returned to me and soon reality and sanity would become distinct once again. And I could feel it through all the marrow in my fragile bones and the deep, long veins that were exposed through my pale, dusty face that the chains were coming loose. They were dwindling and soon I'd be liberated. And not long after, my sinful black wings would regain the purity of innocent white. But that won't be for a while, because I am still chained. I'm waiting to hear a heart beat again even if that heart is my own and I'm waiting to feel the flames of a blazing love that swallows this glacial air that suffocates my every breath. I'm waiting for someone to hold me close and I too want to see "the beauty in such tragedy."

Thankfully, a voice as small as mine heard me. An angel, as me, with wings tainted far darker than my very own had heard me and understood. His pain, I could tell ran deeper than I would ever know and I was afraid to finger his heart which was much more delicate than the finest glass. To cradle it in my palms at the very least, it would surely shatter. But this whole time I hadn't realized, this angel had sat not far from me in this same dusty dungeon. And when the light had glittered down and streaked across my bony face, it didn't touch him. Only vaguely had I realized we had both been torn apart. If he hadn't spoken up, if he hadn't heard my plea, I wouldn't believe that hope could ever return. This other angel, he had convinced me that through the most painstaking of stumbles and blunders there is always a way to escape from the wreckage, even though he so clearly could not induce himself. No, not alone. Alone, either of us would rot away here until we became decrepit and the skeletons diminished into the Earth. But together, we influenced optimism. And the shackles, those distasteful restraints, rattled as limbs could move even the slightest bit in them. He'd turned my wings but a shade lighter and faintly, I could see his lighten slightly.

Soon, for us both, living would become something again. The nightmares too can fade away. The victims, velvet and murderous intent shall ebb. "These black wings manifest of sin" shall be forgiven and eventually, the salvation will disengage it all. And maybe it's not really the conclusion, but rather the commencement. Slumber in the shadows before being born anew. And the monsters and vampires seek the shadows and new victims, but slumbring within it gives a better understanding of what truly matters in life. And together with a bit of effort, the clipping of wings can be reversed, though it may not seem possible, and surely we can find the key to unlock the binds of pain and horrors. Because in the current state, we are just like a puppet without strings, limp and lifeless. You know, when you've been betrayed and lose everything precious to you, you're distrusting. Very actually. So when you've finally gained something precious, even if it's friendship, you want to cradle it in your arms like a delicate flower and make sure nothing happens to it. You value life and what you have much more, almost as one who has had a near death experience. For myself, it is so. Because as I see it, I have died inside myself. I have slumbered in the darkness and now am being reborn. With my rebirth comes new hope and grants new meaning to all. Right now, my eyes are closed and I sit silently in this chambered tower. I may be dead, I may be beat and broken, but my eyes will open. And when they do, that's is when I shall be as animated and fresh as I once was so long ago. I will find a precious flower and cradle it within my grasp. Following the first shall be another and another. Each petal holds my hopes and dreams, my desires and all my precious feelings. I will gather enough precious flowers until they've formed a bouquet in my arms. Each precious flower, singular by nature, shall become one in the very depths of my heart. And with a new spirit arousing within me comes freedom. Freedom begins the revolution. That where it all shall start. Then, these chains will only become a scar in my heart to remember and never forget but never dwell in. I'll feel the warmth of the sun against by cheeks and my snow white wings shall stretch to their furthest limits. That is when I'll soar, I'll fly out of misery and all of my past, but not too much, for one who tries to out run the past will find that it always catches up, sooner rather than later. With my new life, that door shall be jerked oppen once again and that is when I shall fearlessly march through it, no looking back. There are no such things as happy endings or luck. Life is what you make it, be good or bad. I intend to make my story one helluva ride.