Silence.
The only picture of your mother takes a dive to the floor,
Shattering into abundant pieces of glass,
As your drunken dad eradicates the severed door,
Imprinting the sound all around your mind, ringing.


Motionless.
Your bones twitch in pain, your muscles are dead.
Bruises weep from your pale skin,
Black and blue, beaten veins pump in agony.
A puddle of scornful tears develops beside you.

Scars.
Some old, some new, stinging
Leaving pure defiant red lines on your wrists.
You close your eyes in abhorrence,
Abhorrence in your self,
In your hardly hammering heart.

Home.
This is not home.

Strength.
It pumps through your body’s matter.
You rise, ever so meticulously.
You trudge, ever so moderately.
To your window, and mourn.

Droplets.
Tears trill down your transparent window.
The sky fills with a white flash, warping your eyes.
Whiplashing sounds ring in your ears.
The dark sky is mocking you.
You unleash the hinges.



Bitterness.
The chilling sensation of the frosty, damp air checks your bare cheeks.
Your eyes water up from the momentum of the propelling wind and rain
Gazing down at the elongating aqueous ground.
You open your arms spaciously...
As you are King of Hell.

Depression.
Your feet have abandoned the stationary floor
And your downwards body drops to its doom.
But the time lasp seems like eternity
As your feel the wind whirl around you
Grasping your soul in God’s outreaching hands.

Crack!
A tremendous white flash outsounds
Your lifeless body clashing with the clammy concrete,
snapping your neck, and terminating your heart beat.
You scan over your disfigured body, with a crooked smile laid upon it,
As you avitate....you are an angel.

Free.
You abandon your uninhabitable life
No one will miss you.
No one loved you.
You soar with the spirits
in the still, silent air.

Home.
This is home.