There's a beautiful sense of injustice in what has happened to you, I notice,
As I watch from afar, your eyes cold, your heart beating slowly.
Your voice is barely audible above the clamour of the room,
Your gaze set low, sinking beneath the glare of these 'spectators' to your humiliation.
They bray and holler, as you rock to and fro on your podium,
Your 'pedestal'.
Your mouth is silent as your mind cries out for help,
Lost and falling,
Further
And
Further
Into the pit.
The dark envelops you,
As you drown in the echoes of your wailing soul,
Bouncing off the walls
Of the trap
In which you find yourself
Caught.
Still, you remain silent,
Strong,
Dignified,
In the eye of the storm,
Against all odds,
As they jeer and laugh at you,
You sit still,
Your back straight and you head held high,
Yet I see through your stony exterior,
I notice the missing link in your chain mail suit,
I notice the gap in your shell.
And only I understand what it means,
As you briefly loosen your grasp
On the pendant of the locket hung around your neck
The locket which is keeper to your darkest secret,
The secret you have strived to keep safe,
And only I see the fault
In your near perfect act,
For your 'loyal' audience,
To whom you are a puppet.
Only I will know why this is significant,
As the small gasp you let free,
Flies between ignorant ears,
Until it disappears, like smoke.
I once knew you when you were happy,
Though you're more peaceful now.
And that is unfair,
And it is beautiful,
Because today will be your last.