COMMENT FOR A WELL WRITTEN TBH.
Autumn stole the vivid colors and crushed them in its foul hands in hopes to restart, to revitalize vitality of color into life. But color came in blood. It came in black smoke. It came in bruises and blood red lips. Color didn't come in itself, but in someone. Onyx wings and silky feathers. The moment of death captured in her tawny gaze like a fly in amber. Sadly beautiful and mesmerizingly furious - so violent. She bled from her conscience and painted dead roses with her blood. A broken soul and a shattered heart to pair, but a smile made for war - her mouth was red like a sick horizon, red like her roses, in all their artificial colors. But there was something wrong in the way she looked most of the time, in the way the orchestrated, tailored grace linen dresses fell on her delicate shoulders and chest, in the bow of her lips, shining slightly with chapstick and parted in a silent sigh. There was something dehumanizing in the way she looked so cruelly inviting, with a toxic smile lingering on her lips, like she was made for it. Made for war. Made for royalty.
SOPHIA ALETHÉA MAHÉRAS.