November 13, 2008
By Maria Murga, Woodbridge, VA

Over and over
I hear it
Haunting me
Taking me

It's funny
How I can maintain my posture
But in my mind
Know everything is wrong

It bursts
The windows and glass
Turning all against me
My skin cut like paper

Though I stay still
Not making it effect me
The pain crawling over my skin
Shaking, bleeding

I do not move
Though the fear and anxiety
Build up inside of me
Twisting my mind

I hear a small voice
Calling me, whispering
Warm breath on my ear
Come, it beckons, come

I do not look back
Refusing to be a prey
I refuse, I refuse
I don't want to get hurt

Anymore, I whisper to myself
Knowing I am the only one
Who understands me
Who cares

I still do not move
Hoping that someone will move me
Pull me down and kill me
Or even touch me softly

Though as I wait
Shivers run down my spine
Signalling me
Telling me

I am close to death
The blood dried, dark
Stains ruin the carpet
I blame myself

I don't believe in miracles
Or even the hope
That I yearn to have
Crushed with every misfortune

I refuse to move
My mind juggling
Whether to live or die
Though the thought of dying lingers

Whispers crowd my ears again
Calling me, wanting me
I am its prey
Though not good enough to catch

Think of me
As that wandering spirit
Who calls out
Every once in a while

Shh, do you hear?
She's crying
She's screaming
She's there

I limit myself from breathing
Thinking that if I died
It would be just an awful
Accident, of sorts

Then I hear it again
The calling, the screaming
This time it wants me
It yearns for me

I turn my head
Looking back
Though the pain burns
As I finally move

Though I never run
Towards the calling
The demons
Those that view me as prey

I still know what I have done

I move
Then they attack

I am gone

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