Sunday, October 15, 2017

my mind is playing tricks on me

my mind is playing tricks on me
I thought I was so alone,
but her tiny hand sat in mine the whole time.
I threw it down, and it hung limply at her side until I picked it back up again,
throwing it down again,
and again,
and again,
picking it back up
until now her arm is bruised, broken,
arm pulled out of her socket,
she looks up at me with tears in her eyes,
pleading for me to keep those tiny fingers in mine,
pleading for me stay,
but my mind is playing tricks on me,
and I can't feel her hand anymore.
I realize it only later,
and I pick her arm up and hold it in mine,
apologizing, promising to never do it again,
my heart as broken as it feels now, and she
trusts me, puts her little hand in mine,
waits for it to heal,
and I, the demon, the villain,
slam it on the table once again,
and yell that she doesn't understand.
my mind is playing tricks on me.
I never wanted to hurt those tiny fingers,
I never wanted to bruise her ivory skin,
I thought she couldn't feel it,
I thought she was immune,
I was wrong.
I was so wrong, and this time, I see it.
I can see her arm, hanging limply without a cast,
without a wrap,
and I'm crying because it was me who did it to her,
the one who just wants to hold her tiny fingers,
the one who is begging for support,
but I've broken my support now,
and she's dying,
and I can't save her.




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