A Series of Shorts

The People

When the people in your head torture you

And throw you to the ground.

Attacking you from all ends

Piercing your veins

Tugging you limb from limb.

Convulsing on the floor being tasered by invisible lightning.

You can't stop;

You don't know how to,

There's no pain

But from your face it hurts.

Writhing on the floor in an agony no one can explain

Because it's not there,

But it is.

It's a force of pure evil,

Throwing you off course.

It comes in the night and day

When you're sound and content.

Doing nothing.

Then it comes

Out of the air,

Out of no where.

Seizing you by the throat and lobbing You to the ground.

You shake and tremble

Not in fear

Because the life is being sucked from you,

By them.

They're playing a nasty game of tag

They tag you and run

Taking your life with you

And replacing it with terrors and memories you don't need,

While shocking and forcing you further in to the ground

They let you regain it slowly and once you think you have them

It's gone.

They strike you,

Sending you flying to the side as they run again.

Its an endless game that lasts forever

But only lasts minutes.

The antagonising monsters retreat

And give it back

But you can't move

You're still trembling all the same

You're soaked in sweat and tears

Numb, but the piercing sting is there.

They walk away hand in hand together -

Laughing -

They won again.

They're gone for now but they'll be back,

Back to play again

When you least expect.

The cruel audacity they posses

No person can have

Not even the most wicked of beings

For it cannot be learned or seen by anyone but the people in your head.

- 2017