The Living Broken (Poetry)

The Other 100

I scream. 

The pain is too surreal. 

I watch as the slithering blood drips. 

The red snake of all dreams. 

I hold on to something true.

At least that's what I think it is. 

I'm trying to breathe.

At least I'm attempting. 

Your voice is like silk.

So warm and soothing. 

Your grip, however, scrutinizing and tight. 

So painful; the look on your face. 

Let me breathe, let me see again. 

Let me go, but no you won't. 

You've done too many wrongs and too little rights. 

  You've taken my light and given me darkness.   

You've ruined my dreams and brought me nightmares. 

I've killed your son and brought alive a monster. 

Let me breathe, let me see again. 

Your voice laughs and mine sobs. 

You smile as my neck turns purple and your hands turn pink. 

Now I'm free and so let it be. 

Your son is gone and your daughter dead. 

Your wife is missing and you, found. 

Go on daddy, kill me again. Kill me like the other 100 you've found and pained.