Though vivid rooms fail to lay still, her words still echo as if they were.
Ballerinas twirl on a music box spiral as the mechanical pieces exchange incoherent words and gossip among broken wires and springs.
Though she twirls and mimics those of brainless minds and souless hearts, she still trips and stumbles to mute laughter.
No one hears her voice as she speaks no matter how agonizing and breaking. She has begged for help, clinging to the synthetic skirts and porcelain faces, yet not a note of sympathy.
No one has bothered with the struggling woman. hardly anyone has even noticed. They all just sit on their spirals in harmony, playing their repeating tunes in circles they go.
YOU ARE READING
Fractured Thoughts
Short Story(VERY PROMINENT TRIGGER WARNING. TOPICS DISCUSSED IN HERE COULD POSSIBLY BE VERY TOXIC. READ AT YOUR OWN WILL.) From the mass of my brain, things tend to come up from moments of darkness. This brings out the inspiration for writing and therefore, th...
