Mint,
That’s all I smelled,
Fresh,
Putrid,
Mint.

Swirling around me
Moving under my skin
Bombarding my nostrils.

I’m not crazy
It was never my fault.

The mint attempted to crush my hatred,
Like Greek gods against the titans
It cried and burned,
Burned with the harsh cold liquid.

The liquid leaked out of her
Like an old basin giving up on its substance.
All of her vile features
Slipped into sweet oblivion.

They were right,
Even when they were quiet
They were right about her.
She’s too perfect,
She’s too whole.

I just wanted to steal her perfection
To throw it into oblivion
Burn it until the fires grew weary
Burn it until the fires grew cold.

I’m not crazy
It was never my fault.

Before I was done,
She wanted to go away
But,
She couldn’t do that
She needed to feel
Feel what it was like to look like us.

She ran.

There were so many candles
Millions of them
Illuminating the wide room.

They fell
Crushing her,
Erasing her,
Destroying her.

I didn’t want that.
The look of her
Filled me with an uncharted rage.

She was the same,
Perfectly mangled.
Wax coated her skin
Transforming her into a goddess.

And that smell,
That atrociously plentiful smell
Consumed me.

Mint,
That was all I could smell.
Fresh,
Mint.