He whispered in my ears and it broke my heart, shattered my very existence. He whispered the two most death defying words ever uttered to an artist, he held my hand and kissed my forehead. His touch felt like the bite of a black widow and he left me standing there, tear filled eyes, choked up throat,unmoving body. I stood there, watching all existence cease to be.
This was the darkest Hour, so I masked my face,hid my grace, abandoned the race,became what’s the point,we’re at the same pace,not leaving this place, you might need a back brace because I’m about to shatter your spine,truth.
This is the darkest Hour because their no shadows dancing and dwindling on paper, in the darkest Hour all you have is paper turning to ash, pens dried of their ink, clocks counting down the Hour to our demise. Because in this darkest hour, he held my hand and whispered The End.