When Messengers Fall (pt3)

Bri may have wanted them to pay less attention to their more inanimate surroundings, but when doing so, all their attention moved to Bri. They watched her arm move toward them, then fall back at her side. Her sleeves were short for the cooling autumn, displaying the rough skin of her arm, colour even darker than Malak’s. It was littered with imperfections, caused from internal and external sources. There was the long white line from when the cat fell on top of her when Malak wasn’t paying attention a couple weeks ago. The dark splotches from childhood acne. The reddish scar from a gouge that Malak didn’t know about.

Malak and Bri had a similar ability of being unaffected in their approach toward other people. However, Bri confronted the next person with a smile, leaving Malak to either follow her or approach another person with their less than approachable technique.

Malak never had to be approachable before this point in their life. Before, approaching a human being had always been considered a miracle, and it didn’t matter how they came off. All that mattered was that they were a messenger. No one could see that now. Apparently the aspect which had always made their status obvious had been wiped away with everything else they had lost in their fall.

They listened to Bri’s conversation instead.

Like you’re less than…

After striving for the perfection of the pure glass,
failure is all that can be obtained
and the disappointment is world class
to choke the throat as a heavy mass
It scratches and claws, so easily seen,
leaving mind and body both stained
with the treacherous filth which should be clean
This is the day when imperfection reigns

Swallowing back the broken dream,
tumultuous and smooth, with jagged edges
apparent like the bizarre scream,
now setting up the long lasting regime
that no one else seems to notice despite how
each and every flaw alleges
to shatter into splinters and rip apart somehow
This is the day when imperfection reigns

Finger by finger, pushing it back
only for the shard to dig into each inch
and the air has begun to turn black,
lungs slack,
when there is no hiding the flaw
Don’t even flinch,
for only you’re holding the painful awe
This is the day when imperfection reigns

The fragments catch the light
the residue of the dreams taken flight
the colours more dazzling than what you first held in your veins
This is the day when imperfection reigns