I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
The chorus of voices come from nowhere,
And lead me equally so,
I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
Apologizing for an unseen infraction,
Nothing is unforgivable.
Did it explode?
They keep walking, breaking glass.
No one around them can stop them.
Paying no attention to the pieces of broken glass,
They continue on their deadly masquerade,
With a malevolent soul supplying the masques.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
The chorus of voices return,
I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
Bringing more meaning to the racing thoughts.
Footsteps.
Paranoia.
The cicadas stop in an orchestrated silence.
Step. Step.
I’m alone. No one is there.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry
A dream? Is that what it is?
I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Am I crazy?
Where are the answers?
I need to tell someone.
It is killing me.
I need to let people know.
What good is it, that the ones I need to tell, are yet the ones doing the killing?
I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
that the truth cannot be shown.