Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Sonnet ❯ Sombre Sonnet ( One-Shot )

Sonnet
by: shien


...darkness

I always see darkness.
It's surrounding me, clouding my mind, wherever I go, it's there. Like a black coat. It fits me right though. Sinful and guitly. That's me.

...but I could have been someone else...

I didn't chose to become the wandering shadow of the night. I didn't chose to become a coldblooded murderer. Least of all I chose to become the one to bear all their sins. It's everywhere. In the air I breathe - I inhale it, their sinful thoughts. Their tangled minds.

They look down on me. Everyone has always looked down on me. Like I'm not even worthy being one to respect. One to waste a thought on. But I know that all too well already. I've always known that. Ever since my birth, I've known that I'm not worth anything. I'm not worth being thought of, even though, I have to take their sins.

It's not fair.

They have taken it all. They knocked me down, time after time. They took my dignity, my pride, my worth, my sanity... and now, all that's left is me... a thin shell. So fragile that if you come to close it might burst.
I never let anyone on too close. That would cost me too much, and I can't afford it. I can't repair it.

One might think that it'll go away. These thoughts. But oh no. They stay. They stay forever in your head, until you reach the edge and can't go any further.
But yet... it's all I have. Where would I be if I couldn't hear these voices. If I couldn't controle their troublesome minds. I wouldn't be. It's my very last resort. They give me a reason, somehow.
They console me. It's comforting knowing that there's others out there, suffering like I do. The only difference between them and me is that I don't have to deal with it. I can just... come along, and watch them come around.
Watch their naive minds being cracked down. It's easy to run away from everything. Just to close my eyes for reality, and keep on trick the people around...

But I can't run away forever...

There will be a day when I fall... and when that day comes, I will never be able to rise again...

They'll catch up with me one day and crack me down. They'll tear me apart. Because then I'll have nothing else. Then I won't have no more escape way.

I've always been escaping.
Escaping from myself. My own tangled mind. I don't even want to think about how I feel - but I realise, I'm doing it right now, at this very moment. Confessing to myself what a stupid, pathetic fuck I really am.

I may be guilty. I may be naive and sluttish, never regretting a thing.
But there are those small things, that are so much worse. Those, invisible, psychical things - like thoughs. And they're not like all those other things like, broken hearts, or mental health problems. Because they don't go away. They stay forever in your pulsating head. They stay there and they grow. And when you want to forget. They'll always be there to hunt you, and knock you down.

Because...

...you have nothing else.

In some fucking twisted way, we're all the same. We're all so fucking scared of ourselfs. Just look at Crawford. You really think he can go on like that forever.
He and his fucking work. He and his fucking pride and his fucking solidarity. Well, I'll just wait and watch the day he breaks. He's a fucking coward, just hiding behind his fancy title and proud countenance.
But why should I blame him.
Like I'm any better myself.

The only one you can not really blame, is Farfarello. The little psychoboy. He may be insane and he may be scary. But he's really the only fucking sane person I know. Not that I know that many sane people, but, to me, he makes sense. His mind makes sense. He has... a reason for it all. A point that I don't have.
He has his eternal preaches about god, and his failures. He has his little task of his own, to hurt for god. Hurt so that he can forget.

I don't have that... and I envy him.

But I don't need a reason. I got my little abbility to wash away the tragic thoughts of my own and coat my mind with everyone else.
They taste so sweet. They taste so good because their so guilty and sinful. Just like me. It comforts me. But also, it kills me.

Can you ever believe what it's like not to be able to sleep because someone is screaming in your head.
Can you ever believe what it's like to fall asleep to a frightened kid's desperate crying, and then wake up to the fucking same sound.
Can you ever understand the pain? The noise that drive you mad.
Every little free moment of my bitter life is absorbed by it. Sweapt away in the endless darkness I know so well. The sea of so many prayers.
I never wanted it. And I still don't want it. But there is nothing I can do about it. It's my own fault. My own cruel punishment. I wouldn't deserve anything better. Why would they care about me. They don't care about anything.

Fuck, I start sounding like Farfarello's babbling about god not caring about anyone...

But maybe it's true. Who the fuck knows anything about god? Who the fuck cares about me, or the homeless man on the street, or the thirteen years old male prostitute selling himself for a shelter for the night? No one. And me neither, for who am I to blame them? I am no one. I am worth nothing.
I just excist.

Excist to be knocked down. Excist to be broken.

But I don't want it anymore. I've been here so many times before. I've hold the very same knife so many times. Studying the sharp blade glistening in my precious darkness, as I wonder if it will take my life tonight? Maybe it will. Why not this night aswell as tomorrow or the day after that.
I've been here before. I know this moment so well. It could have been discribed as 'silent' but I will never be able to use that word. It doesn't excist in my vocabulary. Just aswell as 'justice', 'responsibility' or 'love'. They're quite alike I guess?
Yet I've never experianced neither of them.

Would it make any difference at all if I had?

Should I maybe just leave it at that, and blame myself for all this pain. It's my life after all. What a cheap ticket to take. I'll always remain like this, buried in my own misseries. Will I ever be able to fight back and look myself in the eyes. I doubt yes... because I am too weak. I gave up a long time ago. When I understood my excistance worthy. My worthy that means nothing to no one.
I should never had let them smell me. Never let them hear me cry. I could wake up one of these days, stumbling out of the bed and say the first thing I did.
"Hello, I am Schuldig, just like my name indicate. Please be gentle with me, I break so easily."
But as always, I'd be the only one to listen. Because I'm always listening. I hear endless rabblings about pain and sorrow. My shoulder's free for anyone, just as my mind.
Even if someone would ever hear me, they would never understand the slight sarcasm of those words.

A cry for help...

A cry that will never be heard...

And I keep on crying, despite the fact that no one will ever listen to my mute words hidden so well behind my stern face and my ironic grin.
But the glimpse in my eyes will always tell the truth.
I will always be floating in the timeless sea of sin. I will always be fleeing, myself aswell as everyone else.

But I will never ever be free...

I will never ever be saved...