It’s Not Fair!

‘Please don’t.’
Voice a bare whisper.
Eyes cut to side.
Inherent in malicious glee
nurses
despicable
Gothic nightmares
crowd the monitor
watching
waiting
knowing what is set free
not the easiest to re-contain
fun though
bets made
who would victor out?
Small child
appears
coloring
feet swinging
humming tuneless song
bullies appear
peripheral vision
reaching out
touching her things
her pencils
her colors
fingers tighten
voice grates…..
‘Please do not touch my things.’
Hard.
Emotionless.
Countdown in cubicle begins.
Crowd around monitor.
‘Oooooooo did the wittle girl say pwease?’
Sarcasm
bragging scorn
screaming
blood spouting
hand to eye
to throat
down she sits
placid
tiny
coloring her pictures
without a care in the world.
‘Emmellia come with me.’
‘It’s not fair!
It’s not my fault!
I did say please.’
©Dec. 20/20
Picture via Pinterest

Emmie comes Calling

Who are you?
Fire lit
swallowed
old chair
like child
peering through matted hair
grinning
vibrant
life filled
dark
grey
fear
rage
volatile quick
erupting
lashing
collapsing
heaving heap
mutters
moans
scream
upright
eyes violent
darting
escape sought
weapons found
grabbed quick
cannot allow that to happen.
Who are you?
Child?
Woman?
Teen?
What are you?
A toy.
A small little toy.
Daddy always did love me best.
But when I got bigger I did not love Daddy best.
Daddy had to die.
Daddy was bad.
Daddy was made to pay. 
Silence.
Heavy.
Nothing more to say.
As confessions go
pretty bleak.
As mysteries go
must learn more
must find the truth
settle back now
pen at the ready…..
Tell me child
What is your name?
©Dec. 17/20
Picture via Pinterest