The boy walked through the field in a hollowed manner, as though it weren't fashioned from thorns and his person wasn't decorated in cuts and wounds, as if the world had drowned him and no one cared.
Like his delicate feet which once had been kissed oh so sweetly and tender by the sun, blessed by the moon herself weren't bleeding.
His seemingly endless journey had come to an end when he arrived at the beginning and end. Where joy and sorrow confunded, light and dark forever in hostilty stood before him.
He took a step. And another. Then another....till he came upon his destination....
A field of vibrant burning red flowers fields at which he lay in, tired from his travels. he had arrived...
Finally to let go of the world full of thorns and constantly spinning faces and thoughts. Finally.......he could rest.
With a breath, he let go. Eyes never to see the light again.