Far from where I want to be.
I search for the serenity I amlacking.
Attacking all that try to help.
I’m out to destroy.
Sometimes I feel like this little whined up toy, destructive, eyes glowing red.
I want to zap all that get in my way.
People will rue the day they ask me to come out and play.
I want to hurt.
Sweet, and innocent.
Two commonly knownwords to describe me.
Little do they see, the rotting core that is inside me.
Looks of terror, in their own stupor.
So unaware of the true cause of my anger, my vengeance at all who have brought my trust in vain.
Wide eyed and grinning, they’ll see I’m not the girl they use to know.
In fact, I may not even be a girl no more.
A woman on display.
Curls round, full, and glimmering yellow.
Lips a full, plump, bloody, red .
Eyes charcoal, and cold.
Where has that girl run off to?
This is not her?
I’m no longer of existence.
Feeling has fled me, I want to cause harm.
I see him there kissing her, showing her what I didn’t know, but became so well aware by the time the night came to a close.
Revolting, and insulting, I want to bash his head in with a board.
Yet, instead I linger, I wait for there to become more.
He unbuttons her blouse, everything is silent and full of anticipation, I can almost feel my lips quiver, and then shiver at the thought that will induce the next action to come.
My nails scratch against the rail, I’m slipping, losing my grasp on reality.
All I can now see is red, vivid red, deep, dark, red.
Instead of lingering, I decide to enter, become known.
When I am shown, I hear gasps.
I’m in front of an audience.
Ridicule in each and everyone of their eyes, my sweet demise in clear view for all of them but you to see.
Where were you?
You caused this, you insinuated this.
You’ve created this awful mess.
They’re laughing, I can hear everyone’s cackles from the back of the room.
Into the bright outdoors, I can see no more, because I know my finishing scene is coming to an end.
Director is doing a quick casting call.
Who will she be?
Will she be as pretty as me?
Slimmer than me?
Will she be equally as naïve?
I run to the nearest tree.
Something strong and firm to hold on to, as my world shakes.
Shifts into a darker, less neater place.
So much for revenge.
Now I feel pity wash over my tear stricken face.
So tender and warm I use to be.
Smooth, so clean.
Now the grime has consumed me.
Every part of me.
He’s planted something deep inside me.
Something that grows and flowers.
Petal by petal.
Leaf by leaf.
He’s embedded the dead inside my decaying head.
It will fall off, and then all I’ll have is a stem.
Flower head removed.
An ugly stick for the remaining product.
He’s found a new flower to ravish.
I’m distasteful and unraveled.
My soul revealed, and about to peal.
I take comfort in this fact.
© Copyright 2016 Kathleen Megquier. All rights reserved.
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