Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The Fall

"Wretched Thing..." I say to her
She can't be me, but my hands on my face mirror hers.
My face in the mirror is unrecognizable, my lips dripping with blood and cuts, mud smeared into the open scratches on my face.
I throw water in my eyes, and push my face under the tap to wash away that reflection
I scrub at my skin, thinking the more soap I use, the warmer the water, the more forcefully I wash, the easier it will be to forget the things I've done.

I never meant to fight.
I never meant to fall.
I didn't start out trying to become this thing that I am.
But this mind of mine, the tongue in my head...
it breaks bones and shatters skulls.
It sends me to my grave.

My actions and my every word reek of death.
I cry and scream of beauty,
but the words become just swears and sin as soon as they've been said
There is no breath or heart to beat inside my empty chest.
I press my face to the reflection and as I do she says
"How can you say you're living when your heart's weighed down with lead?"

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