Broken Vessels Lyrics Novels & Stories

Real tears wet my torn shirt. "It’s over," I rasp, the words scraping my raw throat. "For now." The battlefield is silent. Scarred. But the bleeding has stopped. The only sounds are the Child’s shaky breaths and the frantic, human drumming of my own heart, beating against the vast, aching silence left behind. The storm is broken. The love… it held. But the vessel… the vessel feels cracked.

“You adapted.” My Head Started to Hurt Sharp. Intense. “That’s not true…” But my voice trembled. Because something inside me Was starting to believe it “You were never meant to be human,” it said softly. That Broke Something “Shut up!” I snapped. My voice echoed violently through the space. The Room Cracked Like glass under pressure. “You were meant to be a vessel.” “I SAID STOP!” The Darkness Shattered Exploding outward And suddenly I was back. Reality Crashed Into Me

"I am going to recite it now. I have never really understood the meaning, so you should take an attempt. As I spread my wings to the widening chasm below With the crimson and maroon plumage scattering low, It burst forth, and molten gold opened the jaws wide And swallowed up its home, burning down its side. Looking at the broken shards, that broke, as I fell, It reflected my vessel, red, maroon, and well, it was a patchwork, of broken fragments of skin And feathers, not much, and not looking akin And bold hues, and shallow, I know not what to think I have no home, I did, it went down in a blink. It hurts no less than had I been in there It hurts, where I stand, it kills me over here. I feel

They were all going to wish they had never hurt my girl. "Please, stop," she whispered so quietly that I almost didn't hear it. "Tess, baby, open your eyes." When she did this time, they weren't full of fear and confusion. No, this time it was worse. They were full of tears and hurt. "Just leave me, get out of here," she whispered. "I'm not leaving you. Never again, I love you." "No, you don't. Just leave me here, I'm already dead, just let the bomb do its job."

She began to play a medley of different songs it started out with the violin being played first “I set on a narrow way many years ago…hoping I would find true love along the broken road….but I got lost a time or two…what my brow kept pushing through…I couldn’t see how every sign pointed straight to you….Marry me…today and every day….marry me…if I ever get the nerve to say hello in this cafe say you will….ooohh…cause God bless the broken road that led me straight to you…heart beat fast…colors and promises…how to be brave…how can I love when I’m afraid to…fall…watching you stand alone…all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow….my head’s underwater, but I’m breathing fine…you’re crazy and I’m

Just us. As laughter and music swelled around them, the camera of memory captured the moment of four hearts, once fractured, now mended. Not perfect. But whole. Because sometimes, the night didn't end in darkness. Sometimes, it ended in light. And that was enough.

Her head lolled against the glass, and for the first time since the confrontation with Rochester, she exhaled. Buildings rushed past her. Vendors shouted. A child screamed at the back of the bus. Nothing could touch her in that moment of stillness—except the storm in her chest. The file was her weapon. Her father’s voice from beyond the grave. Her shield against those who had stolen everything. But the moment lasted too long. She drifted. Her eyes was shut. She only opened them when she heard the conductor shouting again. “Last bus stop! Madam! Wake up, we have gotten to the place.”

I struck. The sound was not a shatter, not a crash, but a chime—a crystalline, bell-like tone as the porcelain surrendered its integrity. The vessel split along the stress lines I had engineered into its walls, opening like a flower forced into bloom by violence. Five pieces. Sharp as scalpels, white as teeth. I did not weep. I had done my weeping in the kiln's heat, sweating out the last of the toxins he had left in my blood. I reached for the gold.

“Every time I fuck you. Every time you come for me. You’re going to feel what you did.” He flipped us suddenly, pinning me beneath him. His thrusts became deeper, more punishing, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. There was unexpected tenderness in the way he brushed hair from my sweaty forehead. “Does it feel good, knowing you’re fixing what you broke?” he asked between thrusts. “Yes,” I sobbed, legs wrapping around his waist. “No. I don’t know anymore. I hate it. I need it. I need you.” The memories kept coming in flashes as he drove into me. Lab lights. Screaming subjects. My own voice, cold and clinical. Each memory unlocked by another devastating stroke of his cock.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." "Why? You're asking me why?" Zeenah cut her off harshly too, as she cuddled the baby more to her bosom. "It's because I'm tainted; a piece of used baggage that has no value left. It's because I'm broken beyond repair and I don't think I deserve to be happy, ever..." "Enough! Please!" Samira winced at the pain in her stomach, but she quickly masked it off. "Why do you keep wishing for the worst thing ever?"