Unrestricted Literature

4

Stability

In this world a small presence lingers in every room. Examining every word from a split tongue. Gouging the ideas of the poor soul. Threatening another suicide. As we all know we're just here. Always covering the lies with the truth. Comparing others with a slit of a throat. Using dark blood for their likings.

In every room lay a prisoner. Shattered from their fears, ridiculed from the nonsense of useless pills and apathy. Finding their way to the exit until their fingers are sliced off from even standing still. Silence is their only bliss. The only things they're known for. Because a creature is knocking on their door filling the gaps between their lips. They keep them shut in hopes of a saviour. Eyes closed in a mesmerizing shade of blue. Not a single finger leaps up from their skinny bones and thick skin. If only they could think straight. They all crowd in a room with a blank shirt. An empty slate getting pinned with numbers and words. All that they couldn't understand. All they couldn't handle. Because they live in their little world, in their journals, their art. Lying beneath the trees they've come far too close with. Breathing in steadily as they know it's all they have left. Their cheeks almost melt from the pools running out as they bat their lashes. Trembling fingers cross with their heartbeats and little sways. Holding down their grin. Clutching their arms. Finding the truth, but fighting with its lies. Drip upon drip listening to their touch. It's quiet again they say. Because that's all that they live for. If only their minds could speak words. More than actions ever could.