Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
— Invictus, by William Earnest Henley. (via chazkeats)
What remains once the war is won?
A kingdom of corpses.
His name too heavy in my mouth.
What do we become in death?
What do we keep once we are ghosts?
The blood under my fingernails.
His crooked teeth.
Searching for happiness in the threads of his hands.
A love that burned alive.
A love that is still bursting in my hollow chest.
A love that was never enough.
What do you do when you’re alone in the darkness?
Wait for him,
I’ll wait forever if I must.
Were you ever able to name one hero who was happy?
— Emily Palermo, He Is Half My Soul (via starredsoul)