The blood that drips from the dark moon is only that of my shattered heart.
I roam the dark forest, feet dragging through the damp floor. The mist begins to surround me. The scars of my life engulf me. The demons intertwine my damaged existence. I do not notice the person in the reflected fog. The demons have my soul. I feel a presence behind me.
I see his face through the mist. Wicked blue eyes, mysterious smirk. His hands glide down my arms. Our hands connect, and I feel a sense of energy rush through my battered soul. He slowly whispers in my ear.
“Don’t let them tell you how to pace your life.”
My ghost is gone. I could feel what he was telling me. These demons are supposed to be my angels. But they have consumed my passion. I would rather live a thousand lifetimes with the devil then have the angels take my existence.