"'Cause it's a bitter sweet symphony, this life..." -The Verve, Bitter Sweet Symphony
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"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done..." whispered the figure before stopping. It was sobbing, suffering, the tears obscured its vision. Misery. A rather simple word, yet it contained everything this person was feeling at that moment. The wind touched its face, it was cold, refreshing to the point of being breath-taking, suffocating, its lungs could barely contain themselves, the heart envied their composure.
The moon was shining as this mysterious individual had never seen, that night it wasn't just a distant orb floating arrogantly in the shadows of space; that night it was as if a different world was reflecting through ours; gigantic, majestic. It thought it was looking God in the eye.
It swallowed, it tried to bid farewell to that compassionate moon, but nothing came out, its mouth was jittering; it just sobbed, tried to let it all out before dissapearing.
A scream came out, it was loud, deafening. The sound roared from the building roof to all the suburban corners near it. Car alarms activated, dogs barked, shadows peeked through the borders of their curtains before losing interest within the second. After a while everything went back to normal, the streets returned to being silent, static, careless. In just an instant, this urban microcosmos had forgotten about this screamer, capable of producing sound no regular human could ever emit. It was taken as a sign. The future was near, yet it was also over.
The tortured sillouette, deprived of all its humanity, spread its arms wide, closed its eyes, and made the leap.
The faint blur fell stiff, yet anyone who saw it could have swore that it went in slow motion, as an angel jumping from a cliff to soar immediately afterwards; only it didn't. It fell to the ground like a wounded pidgeon. And it stayed there, its action an allegory of mankind.
And yet it remained here, chained to this world where it didn't belong, and to a species that would never understand what this entity, once one of them, was now: a hollow carcass, a mold, an assumption of humanity. And it knew that the condition would progress, and it would slowly erase its empathy, the only thing that still made it, technically, one of us.
It rose, defeated, and walked towards the street lights, dissapearing in the radiance.
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"No change, I can't change
I can't change, I can't change
But I'm here in my mold
I am here in my mold" - The Verve, Bitter Sweet Symphony.
