by B.L. Redetzke

The fingers which were once short, harmless, are now long, slender, and white.
The fingernails which were once innocent are now bloodstained.
Digging deeper and deeper, they draw blood, seeping around the fingers.
I cry out, realizing the self-inflicted pain.
One by one, the fingernails are torn off.
Each time, a scream follows, silent and pure.
No one moves, no one listens.
Can they not hear?
I look at them, look around the room.
They continue laughing, smiling, as if no one is there.
Another nail is torn off, a scream follows.
They tear at my flesh, thriving off my pain.
Unheard agony.
I scream.
I am falling.
Deeper and deeper, the darkness swirls about as if on a merry-go-round.
But no children are laughing.
No carnivals are singing.
Farewell To The Flesh.
Put on your mask, cover your feelings to the world.
Perhaps a clown to make them laugh.
Perhaps a demon to make them scream.
Your anger stays hidden, your greed and jealousy is concealed.
No one sees, no one hears.
Knowing it will never end,
The laughing and screaming will echo forever, I scream.

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Silence, 27 August 1996