Not yet a corpse
And yet I feel as though i am.
I tell myself, over and over,
But the maggots~ they burrow, writhing
from my decaying flesh.
The stench of rot seeps from my skin,
A foul gift to the world.
Yet, in death, I birth life anew~
A species reborn,
A circle unbroken.
Ink spills from my trembling hand,
Remarkable how it pours my blackened
soul.
Onto this pale parchment,
A vault of my secrets,
A tether to chain my madness.
To keep it from consuming me whole.
But what can I do?
How do I save myself?
When these hands itch to take a life?
Behold~
I bleed upon the page.
Milo stared at the poem he had just written on his messy study table in the early hours of dawn. His hands shaking. After making love to Yena, she slept like a baby leaving him to his dark thoughts. The thoughts that has increasingly been constant like a monster had been whispering them into his subconscious, pregnant.
Writing poems was one of his hobbies that he enjoyed a lot. Because it provided him a way to escape. So he kept a journal of them to track his thoughts. Being a poet was his childhood dream but his father called him weak for having such hobbies while being incredibly bad at hunting. He always hated the sight of blood. A poet was labelled a weakling's job right from his childhood. That of one who had lost his manhood. As the only child and heir to his father. He tried to please his father to be anything but a disgrace.
He chuckled at the memory. He was long a woman ever since he wrote hidden till his father's death and he assumed the position of a Count now he wrote freely every morning of each day. However, he was still in fact a coward because he never for once published his poems, always procrastinating like he had all the time in the world. Now the hope of his dream happening were slim to none. Since he was about to die.
Soon.
"Father! Father look what I found!"
He jolted awake from his thoughts to see his four years old daughter looking up to him like she had caught the sun. She was so small stretching out her thin hands covering up something, tenderly.
"I am sorry, Milo. She slipped out from my grip and rushed into your study."
Yena grinned, kissing his eye in a way that meant good morning, muttering "My children are such a handful. Even Jordan wants you to hold him. Right baby."
A year old baby sat on one side of her hip. flaying out his hands downwards for Milo's attention. "Pahpa!"
"Jordan not fair I was talking to father first. Wait for your own turn. Father look at me!"
Welma pouted, eyeing her baby brother who Milo placed on his lap.
"Come here, darling. Father always has time for his princess."
He lifted her up to his lap kissing them both on the forehead.
"Now I'm jealous. How could you forget your first baby.?"
Yena teased, whispering over his lips before kissing him hard.
"Eww gross. Jordan close your eyes you are not of age to see this yet!"
Welma closed Jordan's eyes with her palm as the baby giggled.
"Father stop that you are eating Mother!"
Milo reluctantly pulled himself away as well as the pushing down the urge to lock the kids in a room and finish what Yena started. He inwardly cursed as he watched Yena flashing a mischievous grin. "Eating? How is your father eating me?"
Welma's brows furrowed deep in thought whatever in her hands forgotten. Milo gave Yena a stern look that made her squeal.
"Welma you wanted to show me something, darling?"
"Yes Father! Look what I found!" She cried out whatever she was thinking long forgotten. Slowly opened her cupped hands to reveal a black butterfly. "A sleeping butterfly!"
The two couple froze on the sight of it. Milo's body shaking subtly. On picking up the sudden change in the environment. Welma looked up, worried.
"Did I do something wrong, Father?"
"Where did you get that, child?" Yena asked, fear in her eyes.
"I watched it fly and perch on our front porch. So I opened the door and let it in."
"It didn't perch in the garden but the front porch?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Oh my God! Milo..."
Suddenly tensed and scared Jordan started crying loudly.
"Father! Father! Did I do anything wrong?"
Hugging the distressed children tightly.
"Nothing. You did nothing wrong."
Except exist because of me.
"Father..."
"Yena, please take the children out please I have something to do." Milo breathed out like he was in pain.
"Milo."
"Please listen to me Yena... please." He took the black butterfly which was dead, not sleeping and placed it on the desk as Yena carried the wailing child who sat on his lap and Welma who was crying and calling out for him too.
"Father i am sorry. Please don't let Mother take me away. I will be extra quiet. Let me just stay with you Father. I won't bring in butterflies. I wont ask you anymore questions. Please let me stay with you, I miss you!"
She screamed struggling to get out from Yena's grip which wasn't an easy feat. The fact of Yena unable to handle the kids was wrong none of them would escape her until she let it. Them coming here this morning was Yena's way of lightening up the dark cloud that hovered his head and let him meet his children he had been avoiding for so long.
The door shut close. The screams of his children becoming faint.
Milo stared at the black butterfly. Something that was so rare to see it was almost a myth. It was now in his house. Was on his front porch now on his study table.
He remembered the story his father used to tell him that occurred in the past in Alvaron. The appearance of the black butterfly was a signal of death. That took the lives of thousands of people then, it shook the kingdom of Alvaron making them vulnerable to war from the neighboring kingdoms but out of fear of the unusual deaths caused by those butterflies they avoided Alvaron like a plague. Food transportation suffered a huge loss adding those who died of hunger and famine.
Now that same butterful was sitting on his desk.
Confirming his death in a very poetic way.