The light from the lampshade cascades a shadow across the white wall. Creating the outline of a broken body who proclaims bruises can’t be seen by the shadows. This doesn’t take convincing. The dark isn’t aware of the bruises, we talk of light and safety but all it does is highlight our downfalls. Says good morning to the hurt and a new day of torture. The revival of another ****** day. And we worship that? The broken body that  shakes and screams is ignored by the morning rush and clatter. The night listens and lets you empty.