Work Text:
My own vale of tears is the forest in the dark on a cold night. The birds chirping, but sickening. No warm of another human touch, just the shooting pain of the bite of an animal. The comfort of the grass, and their blood tint there is pooling down in the body. The manners of nature don't exist in this realm, and the hunter is searching for it's next prey after it's been done with me.
There isn't any remains of the things that I was, or the innocence of me. It was done, and it's already gone, where shall I rest now? Maybe, next to the flowing river as I bleed next to it, the blood pooling and following the river, quickly disappearing in the liquid as I was laying down on the pile of rocks as the last thing i'll see it's the shimmer and reflection of the moon in the water, and the feeling of it's claws. Or in the field, that it wraps around my corpse like a velvet, the insects eating of my remaining parts and mushrooms growing over me as I rot into bones of something that just wished to survive.
My screams pierce through the forest, but no bird pays attention other than an owl, that only turns and looks at me, as pieces of myself were unwrapped and played around with like toys, or being eaten like I was grass, only to take my intestines and leave, leaving my poor body desfigured, what I was now just lost in the realms of darkness, only as a simple and daily occurence, the rest of living things getting ready to move on and continue with time, as my time shall end, and so will sometime to the rest that turned a blind eye on my situation, and so will to my hunter.