Overtaken

There was a vast smell of insecurity in the air tonight. The Smell? Like the raw scent of fire-burning flesh on flesh in a fearful atmosphere. His scent was of ice tears, shredding the molested soul that has suffered years of desertion and exploitation. And then there was the sound. The ear quenching wail of a child reaching out with his bare hands, begging for the unrequited love of his mother. But her eyes wander past his pleas and on to her own. And digging deeper than that there was the appearance of insecurity. He looked like the timidly masked obscurity displaying himself upon every child’s mind only to demolish the world that, their ignorance only led them to believe, laid safely beneath them. He altered the image of a colorful Candy land gumdrop forest and composed it instead of a girl who excavated a sharp blade deep into her skin pleading for the blood to wash away all things wrong with her. Now you are aware of the scent, the sound, and the image that insecurity portrays. And tonight that insecurity was brutally overtaken, and only a light dying cry of it was heard, fading, until fear was the only one that continue to exist.





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