Dark? The hollow blackness that nestles deep inside? I am carved, well and truly—my shell hides the cold. I am empty. Nothing resides within. My screams echo in this kind of darkness.
Light? The brightness I desperately try to unearth? I see rays filtering through ruins—the neglected remains of myself. I shrink away. Terrible things emerge. This kind of light illuminates the ugliness.
I must choose.
Writespiration #50 Prompt: Light vs Dark