close your eyes

A spark bursts across Zorro's nerves. How the skin so easily tears under its own pressure. Their breathing hastens, and their lungs feel the fire within. That beaming pain. It feels so good to let go of. To let loose in these motions; those feelings of utter desire and ecstasy. Is this how a person should feel? Like every sensation, every moment that their being has ever lived for and strived for, is reaching its peak right now.

Zorro looks to the horizon. There, they see all of it: the people who choose complacency in these words. Those that claim to fight against this reality yet cannot change themselves. Faintly, Zorro can still feel that agony—it's rising, just like their mind. The false skies shine their artificial lights down and glare with that sterile, awful hue that highlights those flaws. Their blood pools under their fingers as it stains the concrete under their boots. Red splotches of color, some specks larger than others.

They're not blind. They know just how selfish these goals are.

"All they ever want is a new thrill. A fresh taste to savor the bitter hell they all live in."

They can't let it happen any further.

Zorro realizes the truth.