Flight of Furies

Walk the halls
head kept down
ignoring the reflected images.
Taunting
each one a different facet
a different aspect of me.
One screams
silent in her terror
eyes wide
hands held out to shield
ward off
dangers coming at all sides.
One watches
bleeding black eyes
lips disappearing into a rictus smile
resigned
forgotten
leans through the frame
reaching for me.
One rages
fire
flame
destruction flies from fingertips
never calmed
never quieted
even as tears gather in my eyes.
End of the line.
No where for me to run.
No where for me to hide.
Steps falter
as I look up
seeing images of me
dancing in the prisms of the mirror.
One
two
three
stop looking at me.
Three
four
five
spy the missile on the ground.
Six
seven
eight
stand up straight.
Nine
ten
let fly
shattering the images
glass spewing around
down on me
as each aspect
black
grey
red
stream towards me
even as I flee.
©Oct. 22/19
Picture via Pinterest

Pull the Trigger

Countless times
the image has played over
over and over
in your cluttered mind.
Silent
with sound
black and white
in color
violence the only stable factor.
Cringing
cowering in fear
waiting for the blows
vicious words
until suddenly you can take no more.
He never thought you meant it
he thought you would crash again
begging for forgiveness
for imagined wrongs in his perfect world.
Tiny
deadly
slipped into your hand
lending you a bravado you did not feel
you leveled the gun at his laughing face
and pulled the trigger.
August 24/15
Photo by Sofia Sforza on Unsplash
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