Inevitable.
My fate is inevitable.
That last sweet goodbye will cling to my mind like moss to a tree for the rest of my life.
Sometimes that moss is so beautiful.
The tree's greatest quality.
But sometimes it is a death mark.
Sometimes the moss is so powerful it suffocates the tree.
I can already feel the farewell wrapping it's cold hands around my throat.
I can feel it's icy breath on my face.
My Fairytale is ending- my enchanted forest writing in agony.
My once divine kingdom will soon be nothing but a barren land that I am unfamiliar with.
My once powerful roots will wither and die.
My branches will bend and break with the ruthless wind's hiss.
And my beautiful green will be replaced by the grey of death's breath.
My life here will be over.
I will be but a sapling in an unfamiliar wilderness-marred by the scars of my previous life.