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The Lucky One
Folder:
Dark Poetry Voices sound as echoes inside.
Reflections of the ones created.
Since seven they’ve been with me.
Been eleven since they met me and attached to the lucky child.
Be quiet—keep a smile.
Do not show that you can hear them.
Ignore the number.
Countless voices conversing silently.
The invisible conversation is seen as glowing colors behind tight eyes.
Silver irises hide beneath shuttered flesh in shame and fear.
I am here. I can hear. I can hear the questions—the constant screaming.
Be quiet—keep a smile.
It will all be over soon.
It will all be better soon.
But I can feel them out and about and deep within they rage and shout.
Stand! Fall! Bleed for me, child.
Lay in this grave as I rape you, my child.
All mine, my child, all mine.
Lay there while I strip you of innocence—of sanity.
My seed.
Bleed—just for me.
Now sleep.
It will all be over soon.
Be quiet, child—keep a smile.
