PART II Prose

A Chink Of Light

Zyril Brun

As though, standing in the middle of a densely cloying blackness. No real light is seen; it seems that the light has been snuffed out by the darkness. As it melts away the sanity and can feel it sticking to the skin. Unrelenting sighs outweigh the soul. Making to fear something unfamiliar since it was suffocated by the thick mist of its entirety. Often wonder if there are bizarre threats might be hiding in the light. In celebration of the dread of the light, the gloominess stirs. It provides lies, which have grown to have a firm belief. That the ultimate intent is to tear out hope, and it has successfully done so with most of it. Hence, must flee in terror as the biggest fear is actually the very thing that the soul’s avidity. Though, the lamp can somehow garner a bit of hope. A desire that one day, they might muster the strength to ignite autonomy. To extricate themselves from the prickle and lament that has been clung to their heart for quite a while.