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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #1811473
scared, paranoia, fire
What is wrong with me?

Why is everything so much more?

These lights, they’re blinding me, but

They weren’t a second ago. Outside it is dark,

But in here, too too bright… My hands

Feel as if I am holding onto fire. Everyone is

Staring at me now. Make them stop, make them

STOP. Oh no… I think I screamed that. Now he is

Looking at me, an odd light in his eye. Why does his

Face seem to be changing? His mouth is too big.

So are his eyes. Then I see his hands. They’re

Reaching for me. I feel my back against the wall.

I am trapped. My chest hurts. I feel like I’m

Going to be sick. My heart is beating like

An animal about to die. That’s what I am. I

Am next in line to be slaughtered, and everyone

Will enjoy it as they rip into my flesh.

BURNING. His hand is grabbing mine now.

Feels like he is ripping off my skin, but all it is

Is a simple touch, just his skin on mine. Why is

This happening? Now the burn is more, more, MORE!

Why is he hurting me like this? I think I’m screaming

Again. He starts to back away. My hand is still on fire.

Now the rest of my body is infected. I can feel the heat run

Up my arm, through my veins, over my chest, and down.

Everything is on fire, and I can see the lights again. Maybe

They’ll finally guide me. Twisted is this feeling, warped

Out of shape, carving into my body. Now it turns to ice. But

Oh, my eyes are still on fire, I can tell. Everyone is looking into

Them, and they see the truth. They know what I am, and they

Want me dead. The lights are brighter now. They are

Circling me now. I guess he pulled me away from the wall.

Before anyone can do anything, I can feel blood dripping

Down my face. No, not my face, my mouth. And my eyes, my

Nose, my fingers, my ears, and now I am red. Blood red.

But wait. It is not sticky. I don’t smell the sickly sweet scent that

Is always present with blood. Now the lights look different. I look

Up, and I see him standing over me. I am wet. He has thrown water

On me. I look out the window, and it is light outside.

I am not on fire.

© Copyright 2011 Marianna (xsabreblood at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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