Something a little darker this week…
“Why don’t you do something about it?” Time and again.
I’ve always been detached. I’ve had to be. It was hard work keeping up my wall, keeping us all safe. Not that they ever noticed. If they knew the truth, would things be much different now?
But I’ve grown weary. I’m tired of brushing their voices away and keeping the other ones at bay. The other voices that want their time, to desperately be heard.
So as I hold them here, at the point of my mercy, what do they scream?
“Please don’t, please stop… don’t do this.”
I was an unusually small child. Often unnoticed, easily ignored. Quickly abandoned.
I soon accepted my fate. I had to. I took your wallets and your food, never once glimpsed. But it wasn’t enough.
In my early teens I met a man. He taught me things. Wonderful, horrible things. He made me truly dangerous, mind and body. I took your families and your friends and anything you loved. Some of you even deserved it.
It’s a life. Killing time, and things. Taking jobs, taking lives. And now it’s now. And now it’s you.
I’ll be the last thing you never see.