It seems dark, consuming
I just did not know mercy could hide
within this inky cloak.
The driftwood keeps knocking in my head
death toll for who I was
traitor with nowhere to hide
ceramic vase broken
where I stored something
and it is something
something loud, violent, and very much alive
tapped until the crack first appeared
encouraged, tapped a little more
and a little more and a little more
and smelling daylight
dealt the crushing blow
Whoever thought a neglected child
could hit so hard.
This is not the person I wanted to be
this is not where I wanted to live
these are not the memories I wanted
to decorate my hallway with.
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