Scattered

Roared a cadaverous wind, deathlike but nor dead. Soul of mine turned into a silver mirror, floated in the air and breathed upon my eyes. I now completely blind to see the scattered pieces of my battling side. My dear, for what? For you are the undying or the tar-black grudge is the undying one? A morbid will fals into the redolent realms of your innocence, a murderous intent disperses, rotten to the core, prepared to burn and make you feast upon. And stunned by his doors that slapped you in the face. Deemed to lay on razor bed. Then will you realize that you have wings to share the burden of your desperate end?