They lead me to a stage made out of wood. People cheering, all in happy mood. There is a rope. They tie it all around my chest. Another rope. This time attaching my body to the stalk. All are shouting. Screaming for a show. So here they bring another rope. They light the fire, I breathe in the smoke. I hear them all. All waiting for my fall. There is no fear. I still can hear. They’re all looking in my direction. No one seeing my reaction. No one knowing how I looked. No one caring why I burnt. My eyes open against my will. I just want to stop to feel. But instead I look and really see. I lock my eyes at them, but no one at me. The flames begin to reach my body. I cannot think, my mind is foggy. It quiets down. I cannot hear the screams. I have no choice but to close my eyes and breathe it in. I wish I did not have to feel. But I did. I felt it all. Until all left was my ash laying on the floor.
A Spider’s Dance
It is not an endless wave of pain. It does not hurt, it does not rain. And despite the tears that come rolling down, I do not jerk, I do not make a sound. For something in me broke today. Something I’ve been holding onto begging it to stay. I did not care how it would go. I was delusional, my apprehension drowned within my core. I have always thought that either one of us is better. He always told me it was him. And after every day the gap went greater, every passing moment in his favor. I sometimes tried to fight the storm, the waves of words, the smile that called for more. I ventured down the alley of defense, I speculated he would call for rest. And every time the attack came round, it was harsher, aimed with brutal calm. It went for all I held up close, through all defenses, keys and doors. And as every moment passed in time, he knew a flicker more of my guilt and crimes. But he did not use them all at once. He spent his time in a spider’s dance. He joked around about funny things. They all included dates and love and rings. He leaned down close and whispered in my ear, things that all would know, but only I would hear. He would call me names, some nice, most not. And with every step he would get closer by an inch, to my soul, my heart and a body he could lynch. Of course, I thought I held up strong, and as I fought I saw nothing wrong. For with all the webs that tie me now, he can eat me slow and make me bow. No. It is not an endless wave of pain. I was in love. He held my chain. It is not something that could easily break. My heart resists, my master begs. So I write this down with hope that I will not forget. That I will not be caught in the spider’s web. For I sometimes caught that glimpse of how it is, but never naked truth and always his. It did not help that they had my back, encouraging my delusions, not keeping me in check. He does not love me, he does not care. He proves that daily with actions I refuse to share. But this… It does not help. For when chains of leather break, ones of metal are eager to replace. So no. I hold no regret, not towards my actions or claims to be upset. He made me feel like shit. He showed me all the ways I do not fit. That I stood alone, him on the throne. That I could not fight, that he was always by my side. That all my words were always wrong, that all of his are a gospel song. That I am less and he is more, that while I squeak, he would roar. But through all of this and despite of it, he would be my friend, I would never leave. I dread and feared of being played, of acting as a fool. I thought I held myself together, I thought I played it cool. But I did not see that while the truth I would conceal, he saw through every wall and every seal. That even long before the seating changed, behind the curtains, it all was staged. And now I know that I’ve been wrong. That it is not at all as I had thought. My chains did break, no matter how much it had to take, but there won’t be new ones to replace. I see my class. I see every person till the last. He is their king. All are wearing the black stoned ring. But I do not. I am a threat, he is no god. And while he can scream, my look can bring monsters to their knee. He might have power, but it is not his own. And it is my fire, my will that will prolong.
I know they hear me. I know they see me. Everyone knows I’m here. Every morning I sit where I am placed, wherever I fit. Everyone greets me, as they arrive later than me. Everyone sits on their spot, as I sit on my own. We all do it together. This should make me feel better. But then the bell rings, and my happy mood flings. For they sit, too, but they sit in groups. They walk, and talk, and laugh like me, but mine is fake, and theirs is free. And yes, I’ve learned how to smile. It is not something new. It is a skill that is known, practiced, mature. So, if I have to stand up, to walk or look up, I put on a smile, and with small steady steps, I do so ahead. I don’t have much time, not that I need it. Everything’s fine. I study. I do everything due. When there are problems to solve, I do them both. When there are stories to write, I manage to hide. But then the stories we tell, and then starts the hell. The first one is funny. It is easy to laugh, pleasant to do so, we all have our fun. The next girl stands up. Everyone hopes for her mouth to shut. They talk to each other, joking around. That is why I begin the remaining seconds to count. So, the class proceeds. Every boy and girl reads. But I stay right there, someone says my name, but I am too scared. So, the class does proceed. I did not speak. The classes end. Time to go, to not pretend. They find their friends, stepping out, all holding hands. But all I do is smile once more and walk out the door.