Author's Note: Multiple drabble's inspired by Crossfade's Dead Skin. I put them all together, since it's barely enough for a page. :3
Disclaimer- Ivory Tears doesn't own Devil May Cry nor does she profit from this work of fiction.
He was broken. There were so many pieces, he knew he would never be the same.
Hopes, dreams, and disappointments would forever be foreign concepts in his mind.
Too much the beast, not enough the man.
Machinations of a deranged mind.
He would never be the same.
He could feel his anger—overwhelming in its clarity—seize him in its tumultuous grasp.
He had hoped to blind fold his demons.
He wants to feel something—anything besides this numbness that has taken up residence within him.
He cannot feel what a puppet he has become.
Hacking, slashing, ripping, tearing of the flesh.
No matter how many times the blade severed his still eating heart, he would forever be hollow.
He scented the breeze, tasting rain on the air.
Wondering if he would ever understand the complexities of the human soul, he soldiered on, carrying the burden of Life.