A brothers love unspoken, with an unwithering eye for unblemished shinery. Those black fortunes harkened in the imagination and foolery. Eyes as pale as cold glassy sharpened daggers, cutting at the skin piercing the outright cold snow. Your bleak glare, it was over shadowed by the morning stars in final stages of collapsing. It fell on top of you, gleefully massaging those eyes with painted blazes of fire and obsession. You dare not ask for the clothes off their backs, compulsory in a quake in the landscape. You were lifted as high as the rungs would take you, in elevation you are equipped for the decent upon your enemies. You struggle to push forward, exhaustion begins to set in. You bleed from the eyes, feeling compassed with your passion to find truth.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger