Bloody Curse


Sometimes I wonder what people think of me. [Curiously fiddles with knife] Am I a whore [smirks]…or am I one of God’s children?  [Sighs] I can’t possibly be worthy enough to be a part of God’s world anyway. Look at me! I’m a filthy bastard! My mother was right to look into my child eyes and beat me like I was senseless.  She was right to shout, “You’re nothing but blood…Pure blood! Why’d you take what was mine! [Grabs my arm] Why!”

I never knew what was hers nor did I even grasp why, after that particular day, my name became Blood, but now, I understand alright! [Gets angry]  Blood is the morality of us all!  I deserve to endure this pain and the pains of my bruises and repulsive scars that make up my discolored thighs.  I deserve to bleed out my filth that only leads all the men that travel down my path to lust.

Go ahead! Moan my name! Say it louder! “Delilah!”

Yes, I am lust! [Laughs aloud]  I am what every wise man should run from.  I am darkness. No light can be found in this alley, but the bright headlights that every man shines to find…me.  I deserve the feeling of blood.  I deserve these sharp, pin like pains that seem to bleed “effect” down my weak, scrawny legs after every man f**** me only to exchange a green, wrinkled  $50 dollar bill between my purplish, bruised breasts. I was meant for this life.  It is my job to cause men corruption, yet I am still the fantasy of what they believe they are missing. [Slides smooth side of the knife on wrist] 

My worth can’t be the…taps of my red heels that create rhythms of every woman’s nightmare. And it just can’t be the strange men that lurk on this worn down, dark, narrow street that leads to my past, present, and future. [Looks down the street at customers of other prostitutes] These very men only remind me of my father.

 Strange, yes very strange, but when he comes to mind he created me and forever tainted my existence. [Body begins to shake] Blood…[Mind Drifts]  for some strange reason every time a man touches the small of my back it causes me to cringe and dwell on the very thought that my own father started with the very same act.  [Stands still]  How he would climb in my bed and touch my pure, developing breasts…and how he would chuckle and say “Don’t worry! It’s a toy. Just play with Daddy’s toy.” [Tears begin to fall]

Why didn’t anyone tell him to stop!  My mother knew, she just sat there and watched! She sat there and watched him watch me as I matured…She allowed him to not only cause blood to run down my innocent legs.  She also allowed him to corrupt my life with the pain of blood! She allowed my beauty to fade away. [Anger Climax] Who would honestly want me, a whore now! Tell me! [Pitiful]  My life is now bound to create disaster, and still I think I deserve this. [Looks at knife]  I deserve these men to chop and screw me like a piece of tenderized meat.  [Begins to cut wrist]  I deserve for them to scold me after every deadly, knife-like thrust that they take between my legs saying, “Daddy loves you!” or “Delilah.” Little do they know that I’m cursed?” [Cuts deeper]

They seek for me to give the pleasure and validate them, and then they leave me…and go back to their real lives.   Little me, though, I turn to blood. Let me bathe in it. [She looks to the sky as the rain begins to fall.  Her blood starts to run down the narrow street] Let the pain wash away! [She falls to her knees and whispers] Cleanse my soul God…Show my beauty, show my light. Am I beautiful now? [She falls on her back and looks at the sky]  Can I be holy now, your beautiful creation? [Blinks slowly as the rain begins to stop]  Tell me I’m beautiful…Please.  Just tell me I’m worthy. [Silence]… [Sun comes out from behind the clouds] [Smiles] I… [Quietly chuckles] I guess I am worthy. [Slowly exhales last, crisp breath till eyes grow still as the sun’s pure light shines on her wounded body and blood. Her blood’s path stops and slowly runs down the sewer drain on the narrow...

Everyday as humans we automatically judge one another. We stubbornly, start to believe that we have the authority to say what is in other words "politically" correct, when in reality being feed the knowledge of a normal persons, everyday life causes us to be lost for words. Even though this monolough is not real, it speaks for many people. Whether one wants to believe it or not there are people who deal with these internal wounds that only are cut deeper by pure ignorance of the unknown. Only if people opened there eyes to see these wounds, nearly all humans endure, could we fully get over this judgemental ignorance.


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