"You see those scissors over there?"
One whispers,
"Those were meant for you."
It says teasingly,
"Take them, then take yourself."
It orders...

"Don't listen!"
Shouts another,
"You have a family! Friends!"
It tries to reason,
Them shouting back and forth,
Clashing with words,
Fighting with their own poison,
Battling until they are far too wounded to go on,
Hiding until the right moment,
Then repeating all over again.

"SHUT UP!"
I tried,
But nothing,
For they couldn't hear me,
But everyone else could.

Not really speaking,
But they do,
Not really there,
But it just makes sense,
Almost like a whisper,
Almost like a call,
Almost like I were a mindless corpse....

Thousands join the two,
Turning a simple argument into a heated war,
A once quiet prison yard,
To a full on riot.

None can hear their cries for help;
None but I.
None know just what I mean;
But that's not the point.

Take that pain,
Put it on the page,
Send it away,
See what it does.

I say send some,
Then burn some.

- Jay M
March 22nd, 2019

burns lay across skin
fire touched finger tips
from reaching out to the sun
reddened and shiny blisters
peel away from shaking hands
leaving soft skin of innocence
a layer to forgive the fire
from a thoughtless star
you reach again
the cycle continues