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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1926840
What we all risk when facing the torments of life.
The Other

The other sits upon my shoulders
It whispers in my ear with many mouths
It speaks of such cruelty and pain
But I ignore the voices
They cannot change me

The other sits upon my shoulders
It pulls back my head and spits in my eye
It shrieks and shouts, drowning all else out
I struggle to throw the other off
But I have not the will to free me

The other sits upon my shoulders
It drags its claws across my face
It cuts me deeply, bathing me in my own blood
I collapse under the weakness of my wounds
Though never are there any scars

The other sits upon my shoulders
It whispers as it did before
It makes weakness entrap my mind
I hear the words and drink them in
Ready to receive their violent release

The other sits upon my shoulders
It tightens its tentacles about my throat
It sends roots deep into my flesh
I feel the pleasure it saps from my pain
And I understand my escape

The other sits upon my shoulders
I reach up and grab its throat
We squeeze as one, ready to end
Darkness descends o’er my eyes
Then it dies beneath my fingers

I sit upon the other’s shoulders
Whispering with my many mouths
I claw and scream, and it would seem
That the other is ignoring me
In the end, we shall see
© Copyright 2013 F. G. King (satual at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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