Unborn | Teen Ink

Unborn

September 24, 2008
By Anonymous

There I sat, in the middle of the hall, It was empty and alone. So deserted and dreary not a single smile befell my pale cracked lips. I was waiting and watching in an almost a canabalistic, undomesticated, manner. A single black tear befowled my once blithe face. Then the desolate hall was pierced by one high pitched shreding sound. My own shrill cracked scream. This daily routine of remaining quiet was driving me...
MAD.
This sound this allianated voice was the first even rebellious fragment of a sound I had made since I was unborn. Then I quietly whispered one angelic word.
"help."
Then at that one moment, my head was thrust upward to look at the light. As an invisable being with a grip as strong as iron pulled my hair upwards pulling my body into the air through a magnetic pull. My chest lunged forward in a series of awkward, twisted, jumping, movments as my heart and mind were ripped out in a firey passion. As the tension built my body shouted, screamed, and begged one silenced quiting word.
"Stop."
Then the burning hues and shades that had filled the room silently sank back into their withered holes and the magnetic ropes slowly lowered me to the floor and I curled up and waited to be born.


The author's comments:
This was written as a fragment of rebellion. It was (in a philosophical manner) showing that so many aspects of adults push us down and cut off our social events, in order to make us feel like we are so young that we are almost unborn.

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