My chest  a c h e s  and I snarl to hide the sound of my mind fracturing, shattering into a million shards of glass and those shards bury into my skin and itch and ache and I have to get it out, get it off. Nails drag at my skin like it's a shirt, like it's a costume I can discard but then red stains the material wrinkled beneath my clawing fingers, and I can't get it off it itches and aches and it's too tight, skin-tight and it hurts when I drag drag drag at it trying trying trying to remove it from my flesh. It peels away in messy shreds of pain, but the glass is still there, it's dug deeper and now it's at my bones I can feel it pricking my bones, splitting hair-line cracks along my skeleton and the pins and needles crawl up my limbs like a hungry beast, salivating at the thought of feasting. There's a storm where my bones riot against the glass against the pain pain pain piercing me with an unholy shriek unleashed like a wild horse who needs to run from the cyclone that nips at its heels but it's stuck, tied to a fence, can't run can't flee can't escape the gaping jaws of the hurricane as it descends and wreaks havoc on the world but I'm in a cage, looking out at the ones looking in and they all frown with their blank faces and ask me ask me ask me why do you cry? why do you fight? why do you react? Because they don't feel the storm they don't feel the wind lashing at my skin or the shards of glass burrowed in my flesh and they don't see the cracks in my bones or the mess of my mind underneath my skull underneath my shelter but then it breaks. It splits open and I spill out into the world like a newly born baby and the storm is wild, the storm is cruel and loud and rough against my raw mind and I'm screaming sobbing crying for help help me please I am not strong enough to survive this world of noise and chaos I am not smart enough to build a shelter to weather the storm I am not tough enough to keep out the debris slamming into my soft skin I am not I am not I am not enough for the expectations you place upon my fragile shoulders I will break and shatter and collapse under the weight you tell me I can bear because I am small and I am weak and I am asking for your help to block out the world while I pick myself up off the wet ground and gather my wits and rebuild my fortress to ward off the storm. I'm sorry I snarled. I'm sorry I screamed. I just don't know how to plead how to lay myself bare before you let myself be vulnerable because this world is vicious and I've learnt to depend on my walls to keep me upright and merely speaking doesn't get past the stones so I scream in the hopes you'll hear me.

I begin screaming when the blisters pop, my flesh drooping from my bones, melting, slowly, agonizingly, peeling away and the pain pain pain is brighter than the flames, louder than the screams as they taper off, throat closing, shriveling from the smoke and heat and blood evaporates into a thin mist and I can’t make a sound as I die I’m bleeding into the air as Fear and Insanity can do nothing but watch watch watch me burn alive no escape from the pain pain pain of those eternities before death when the fire laps at my bubbling skin like waves on sand like a cat’s rough tongue on my cheek like a warm hug held too long like Death Death Death reaching for me with arms wide open and he touches my face, cups my head in his two hands of ice as fire rages around and inside me a storm of agony he wishes to take away wishes to steal wishes to carry the burden of life so I don’t have to-

If a wolf was raised
By a flock of sheep
Would his predatory instincts
Slowly deplete?
Would his understanding
Of strong and weak
Twist when brought up
By the latter?
Would the wolf succumb
To his prey-led life
Observe and adapt
Press himself into a mold
Try to fit in
With his flock
Or would he sense
His own power
Would he blaze his own trail
Turn on his family
Would he slowly devour them
From the inside out
Like a virus the body hosts
Without understanding
The damage it would do
To them both
But if the wolf did give in
To his nature
Would he become the villan?
Is he power hungry
Fighting for control
Or is he simply
A lost soul
Among a herd
Not made for him