The Portrayals

Solely, The Soul walks through the street of bricks, guiding him to rest. Beyond that warm-blanketed afternoon, he wonders the days before the star falling. The days where complication is unheard and joys would not have floated in ease. Pure, hope it whispers.

Encompassed by the sephia-colored sky,  fragment of memories flash before his mind. In confusion, he peels out the truth from its flesh, then trying to reverse the pieces into senses. Deeds are under the fence, yet the fences are corrosive. The land is allowed to be awful. Questions burst.

Do we act? Or do we portray those chemical reactions? Or do we portray our own determined fate?

The Soul, as one of The Portrayals, is sometimes losing the ground to stand. Sometimes, The Ones who raised his wings are weakened. Somehow, The Chain he believes is collapsing. He wishes a Pure whispering through the silence, telling him it’s not a sentence for questioning but it’s a sin for doing nothing.

We are nothing but A Portrayal. We portray several roles, some of us are not even aware when portraying their last role, until a final holds us to the last breath.