Past Self

She smiles

as the blood pours down her arm

as the pain interrupts her breathing

as her thoughts are pulled beneath a current of wind

 

They look

as she turns into something not human

as the light in her eyes is replaced with the coldness of hell

as her grip on the knife twists and turns in the wound

 

Her head goes back

as she laughs at the hysteria

as she relishes in the inflicting harm

as she feels the shackles release her mind

 

They gape

as her cackle fills the air with fear

as her friends smirk in approval

as they wonder when it will be their turn

 

And when the fountain of blood pours

slower

and slower

and slower

 

She gets up

She looks at the prison her life was

She sees the pain she caused

She feels the dark red liquid trickle over her arms

She relaxes her grip and stretches

Then turns to look at the others

 

She doesn't bother to feel anything

How can she with these people?

An eye for an eye they say

Emotional pain made visible through the gashes she inflicts

And all she can do is smile at her friends

And join them.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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