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Eternity, the clock ticks. The sound it emits leaves a mark in its wake, it prolongs everlastingly. . .
Time halts for none, halts for no reason. It’s only knowledgeable regarding the path onwards. Within reach, yet so out of grasp.
Figments of his memory, dating for as long as he resided within the borders of the world, the divide which separated those who were deemed heaps of trash, a waste of air and those who held superiority, ones whom truly deserved to be in their place.
In his lifetime, he still couldn’t differentiate himself and the others beyond those forged, glistening gates.
He never once felt a time where the wallowing sense of rage, branching off into every section of his being had faded or flickered even for a brief moment. It flared on endlessly, proving its lasting effect on the boy, and its reluctance to stop. If entirety of the universe collapsed, piercing through the fabric of the galaxy itself. The flame within shalt ever die out, bounded to this vessel, filled to the very brim holding such conviction that he was able to control such a fire.
A seed of fury planted, sprouted further and further, until it consumed him whole, buried him, drowning him in his own wrath. He yearned to grab it— take control-
Futile, it was. All his attempts resulted in the same outcome. He lashed out- unleashed the unbearable rage cursed upon him, passing it onto anyone who’d provoke such a being. He constrained, he contained, but it kept seeping through, it beared its fangs. It was as if he was akin to a wild beast, one who ceased to hold common sense.
Whispers, rumours, even blatant strings of deceit poured out of the mouths of everyone he bored his agitated gaze in. Such lies only expanded, when trouble stirred, they’d all presume it had to be his doing. Deemed it his bidding as if he desired to wreak havoc, fucking bullshit.
The embodiment of ire. He grit his teeth, he long made a decision, if that’s what they wanted then that’s what they’d receive. He stayed honest and true to the rage within him but never quite embrace nor accepted him. This fuelled resentment lacked an outlet, despite so, the distrustful eyes granted hysteria, it was barely apparent to be seen, though nonetheless, present, swallowed in the black hatred he held. In the swelled, cursed embedded heart devoid of the concept of anything but anger.
His hands were scarred beyond return, beyond repair, beyond recognition, words were heeded, no one dared to even spare a glance at the engravings, He was truly inhuman. He didn’t deserve the treatment given by Regto, the gloves which soothed the pain- filled the void within his body. He continued to be selfish, and selfish, and selfish, purely for that purpose, did he not deserve Regto, no matter how much Regto believes he deserves him.
Rage dominated, everything else tucked away. Monsters were to only act irrational, therefore everything he did was wrong. Always incorrectly done, always portrayed as a bad example. He was the bad apple, the mistake in human kind. Encased, and trapped inside this society where he could only do wrong, never right.
What did he even do to deserve these responses just from the mere sight of his figure in the vicinity? To deserve such a distaste towards him— such a level of precise unfairness placed against him, a game he was never able nor meant to win.
Until his inevitable demise, his departure, he had been utterly useless, incapable of defending himself, especially not the ones he cherished and treasured so greatly. He yearned to grasp onto power, power to engulf the city in flames, to bring regret, to release his wrath and restore justice upon this world.
If he had the strength, the capability, he could shield Regto from harm, but that’d still be just a smidge compared to what Regto had done for him.
The pitiful, useless him.
Everyone turned their backs, he could only wonder how many people long before his time had seen a vision identical to the sight bestowed on him now. Picturing the knowing expression plastered, as if they anticipated such a scene a million times over, all their yells which pierced his ears oh so greatly.
Everyone gazed upon him as if he was a creature in an eye widening exhibit— watching as it helplessly retaliates for no meaning- the result would be the same no matter what he did.
He swore to make these people suffer- everyone— they all were to suffer for this. For the sake of regto, whose words still engraved deep within his brain-
“ you have to change it, this shitty world. “
The look in his eyes, in his final breaths. Within the final hour, he could never forget, he refused to forget the last wish spoken by his father.
. . .
And in a blink, for once, before his harboured rage had seeped in— taken over. He had been drowned out by the sudden abyss obscuring his vision and the harsh push of gravity that instantaneously knocked the words out of him. A jarring sensation coursing through his body—
Pain.
Despite the environment change, one which became something even worse than he’d ever imagined-
the pain that had faded out completely, the anger bleeding through him still remained but this time,
He accepted, and he learnt. Perhaps there was more to revenge, perhaps he could experience the same warmth he had shared with Regto once in his lifetime, he widened and broadened his sight, it was overwhelming but he found himself truly feeling something further from the anger, beyond the weeps of his past .
For once, he wasn’t feeling complete rage squirm within him, overtaking rationality.