Trapped In Vacuity

Status: Finished

Trapped In Vacuity

Status: Finished

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Trapped In Vacuity

Poem by: Wicked Beautiful

Details

Genre: Horror

Houses:

Summary

A girl suffering, wishing for more as she witnesses her last moments in a world of vacuity.

WARNING- SOME PARTS OF THIS POEM/STORY MAY BE DISTURBING

Summary

A girl suffering, wishing for more as she witnesses her last moments in a world of vacuity.

WARNING- SOME PARTS OF THIS POEM/STORY MAY BE DISTURBING

Content

Submitted: March 15, 2012

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Content

Submitted: March 15, 2012

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Trapped In Vacuity

Screaming.

That is what keeps me awake at night, what haunts me through each living day.

I just want to close my eyes and imagine myself to be in a world where there is technology, people and things that keep life worth living.

But no- if I ever did that, I would be killed.

It's true.

You snooze, you lose goes literally in my world.

If I stop looking behind me and in front of me and left and right for a split second, a horrible and twisted fate will face me and I will never be able to take a single breath again.

I have only ever seen somebody take the risk once- and I wish I had been able to look away.

My mother, being of young age and stunning beauty, had dreams that were big and required so much of the little time she had.

I was just a young girl, I didn't deserve to see my own mother touched that way, hurt that way, murdered that way.

They violated her in more ways than you can imagine- it was sickening.

I so desperately wanted to scream my heart out, yell at them to stop and stop them from doing what I knew they were about to do.

But I couldn't.

If you speak, you die

It is forbidden, no matter how superior or inferior you are to the others around you.

Although it is unlikely that they will hear you, I have only spoken once in my life.

I sometimes wonder why we live like this- nobody is enforcing these rules, nobody makes these decisions.

But I suppose that is why we do the things we do.

We don't understand the meaning of words like 'peace' and 'unity'.

We kill and we kill, thinking it is the right thing to do.

I truly wish I did not have to say 'we', but I too have had sick, sick thoughts about the ones around me.

I sometimes have sick thoughts about myself.

I have four fingers on my left hand, five on my right.

After my mother was murdered, I became a sick, horrible person.

I deeply regret what I did when I had that knife in my hand, slicing deep into the sensitive flesh of my middle finger.

I had heard about your world, how some people hold up their middle finger as a disrespectful gesture.

I never wanted to hurt anybody physically or emotionally, and I had heard that doing such a rude thing caused feelings to get hurt and war to begin.

My world was already bad enough.

So I cut it off- I never wanted to show such disrespect to anyone in my life.

It was painful, but you should know up front that pain means nothing to me.

Pain is the only emotion I have ever felt in my life.

There was no anger in me when I watched them violate and murder my mother- only deep and stabbing pain.

I remember when my mother first told me about the horrible things they did to people in our world-

'Never close your eyes, never stray away from your mother, my darling, for you will be killed before you can even scream for help.'

She had told me straight up front, harshly, and I had been frightened and confused.

I had asked her why they would do such things, and she had closed her eyes for a moment.

And in a split second, she was gone.

Blood splattered across the walls, and her screams still echo in my mind each living day.

Arms- gone.

Legs- gone.

Intestines, guts, heart- spread across the floor.

Skin- sliced off and sticking to the wall like glue.

Eyes- pulled out of their sockets.

Tongue- shoved down her throat.

Mouth- wide open in a scream, silenced by death.

Nothing had scarred me more than watching them murder her so cruelly, so brutally.

Oh, did I make you sick?

Did my detail make your stomach twist and turn and tie itself into a knot?

Imagine being there.

Imagine what it would have looked like, up close.

Parts of her sliced skin sticking to you, her blood on your hands, her head rolling lifelessly on the ground and stopping right in front of you where you see her black holes for eyes, her shattered mouth wide open and her flesh already starting to rot.

Hmm....I suppose I am a horrible person.

Teasing you, getting sick amusement out of watching your face pale and disgust fill your eyes.

My eyes are closed now, I feel pain, so much pain.

I see nothing, my eyes are gone.

I touch nothing, my arms and legs are gone.

I feel nothing, my heart is....gone.


© Copyright 2016 Wicked Beautiful. All rights reserved.

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