Revel in the scars
still bleeding out for attention:
Begging for mercy to no one,
our voices echo as empty seashells
lapping at our tormenters’ feet.
Take the lashings,
whine and wail and shatter
teeth, gnashing to the rhythmic screams
we wish our voices could reach.
But the tracks play on
and the traffic scoots along
to more friendly melodies;
yet still we chew at the splintered morsels
and grind the salt into our backs
all the deeper.
Toxic elixir to choke the bones down
and our voice is free
to whip the air and all who inhabit it;
let them feel the nails
the sliced flesh of our pride.
And now the moment passes,
leaving only stank breath and
innocent tears on the table.
Seeking to escape,
we merely spread the punishment
and become what we want most
And now for something not so depressing.
There. Monk for you. 🙂