time does not touch these walls -

lined with gazes frozen into paint for eternity,

however long that is here,

in the place where no mortal nor immortal dare breathe.


except you.

the sentinels, lying, human-like

pretending to be the familiar when our hope of knowing you never took its first breath.

You lie, humanoid,

breathing barely, inhuman stomachs rising

under human clothes,

on a human bed.


your perfect dark hair in a ring around your head

intersecting hers.


her bright blue eyes staring at the ceiling

the marble belonging to no-one -

It stares back.


his just-open lips

proportions too meticulously copied

from the so-called


of us

to be kissable,

to truly, really, masquerade.


you are all trying too hard.


no human will dare

interrupt your nothing and no one and nowhere.

even if we could, if we wanted to, if we let the fear go,

we could call you out the very second we saw your silence,

your stillness,

your beauty.

it's not human. you are not human.


i don't think you…


are truly beautiful.


It is the fights that make humanity, is it not?

Beauty is blood, and tears, and scars, and hope -

hope despite it all.


So stay in the room untouched.

Stay silent and still and unloved.

We'd rather pain than nothing.

We'd rather feel than escape the world.



Your whisper breaks the everlasting mystery

(you, whatever you are, do speak.

at least,

to me you do. to the one who dares ask this of you.)

why do you not exist like us?

away from the horror.

at one with the universe.

why must you be your own destruction?


i cannot tell you,

humanity cannot answer for itself.

our creed is pandora.

our salvation is hope.


You can have the silent halls, we will gladly give them to you.

and we will have bloody hands and tears.


but most of all,

you will have nothing to fear

and we will have nothing to lose.


we'd rather that.

at least, i think so.