Locked within this mental box. Bloodied fists beating upon every open surface.
An echo of stifled pain contrasting with the sick sound born from the impact
between beaten flesh and tempered steel.
I beg to know who I am. What I am. But my brain refuses to contemplate the thought. “No.” It says. “You are what you are and naught what you want to be.”
I’m screaming now. My voice dripping hopelessly passed silent lips. “But what if it was a mistake. What if I’m just a mistake?”
No response. And I’m left alone inside my head with those few words ricocheting off the walls like dulled razors.
My tears fall upwards. When I walk it’s always backwards. Could it just be faulty wiring? I’m not sure.
“Freak.”
I beg to know who I am. What I am. But my brain refuses to contemplate the thought. “No.” It says. “You are what you are and naught what you want to be.”
I’m screaming now. My voice dripping hopelessly passed silent lips. “But what if it was a mistake. What if I’m just a mistake?”
No response. And I’m left alone inside my head with those few words ricocheting off the walls like dulled razors.
My tears fall upwards. When I walk it’s always backwards. Could it just be faulty wiring? I’m not sure.
“Freak.”
“Freak.”
“Freak wake up.”
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