Where is the key to purity? – August, 1794

I watch the walls become greyer and greyer around me each day. In the pits which I pee the portrait of my son is a growing mirage with every passing hour. The lone window slices me open like a perfectly placed rapier, it is but too high to see out of but less too small to block out the world entirely. Instead, it burrows into my soul, cutting into my memories, my thoughts. My head burns from its brightness. This light has no more place in this cell than I a place in that world. I have a place in that world! AAAAHHHHH. What have I become? Was I never more than a try-hard ‘bout to get barred? I am a prisoner of my own goodness, the truth is that I don’t know what not being a prisoner is like. My Declaration was the key, turns out it was the key to my cage. I am now locked in my own doings, none of which I am not proud of, but to speak loudly of any which set of my actions in front of any which group of people would be a death sentence. I guess trying to be nice is a death sentence. When you play too many cards you may as well not play at all. How am I still even playing? Why? At least there are four nice things in this world still. Nothing and no one will ever take away the crown jewels of my monarchy, the suns of my world. I will wait until I hold them again, whether it be in death or in life.  I’ll say it not, but for what those fools think of what I have done, it may be said that they are taken dead than rather alive. What I would give to throw myself in place of them for any mortal wish they face, even to kiss their cheeks clean of dripping tears before their heads are torn from their torsos and drips of blood replace them. I know not what has occurred, nor what is occurring, nor the fate of My Dear Heart and my dearest children. But they are now the only key that can unlock me. Their tender faces, so pure. Hands clean of civil blood. They are the real suns in my darkness. To hold them I wish. Everyday. Feel their warmth fill me with joy and love for love is lost in my soul in this cell. Everyday. Oh please, if my one wish can escape this prison, let it be love, let them live. 

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