Raven of Darkness 

by Tyler Hebert (Copyright 2011)

“At times the candle on my desk is the only thing that occupies my existence. It’s the only thing that catches a glimpse of my teary eyes. For a tear symbolizes weakness, and that is not how I wish to be portrayed. Therefore only within solitude do I allow the heated flame to silently illuminate the external pain of my haunted soul. The soul that was once pure, but mimics that of another.  The pen in my hand stands still as my breathing alarms its awkwardness. A paused moment for there is not time. With every second the hands upon the wall in my peripheral vision merely inform me that I am running out of time. Reality is slowly starting to mold itself into the past only to take with it, my sanity. Every incident throughout my existence comes to surface in my mind. My longing for answers is what keeps them fresh. Within my head feels like a troubled ocean as the waves rush to the shore for safety. Can anyone hear my calling? Why aren’t the word I wish to speak actually manifesting themselves onto this whiteness. The whiteness that burns my eyes, but embraces my emptiness. Maybe the words I wish to speak need to be hidden for the world would not understand the truth behind the person writing this. For being incognito is what keeps people safe from judgment.  I should probably try to embrace my story to be more of fiction. That would enable it to be more inspirational, understood and honestly of truth. As time fades, I continue to tap my pen on the one thing that can express who I am. The whiteness are burning my eyes, but caressing my emptiness. I need this to be written so I can look back on it and actually become aware of the person that holds the pen. I slowly drop my utensil and find myself staring at something that seems to be staring back. The eyes look familiar, very familiar. They resemble something that once made me smile and feel complete. Is this a clue on whom I should be writing about? Is this the inspiration I have been waiting to come my way? The unknown mysterious outtake on this incident is really embracing me to not care. How are one set of eyes going to embark me on a journey that will fill this story with imagination and mystery? These eye are making me want to drop my pen and let my hands feel nothing other than that of the flame. I want to take a step out of the ordinary to finally let in feelings I have been afraid to confront, but those set of eyes once made me close the doors on my feelings. Only to isolate myself from touch, smell and confrontation. I am left with myself only to wonder why those set of eyes were deceiving? Manipulating? Captivating? In an instant I question my relationship with the eyes. I wonder if they will ever look upon me again from a distance. I wonder if they would be pleased. I guess I will figure everything out once I let the candle illuminate my face as I look into a mirror. I shall see the eyes, the eyes that once stared back at me. The eyes of a boy who writes to express his feelings. At that moment I can give myself a pat on the back for only being dependent on myself for emotional support.“