Red as the blood flowing through my veins.
Sharp as the knife I hold in the grasp of my hands.
I sit.
Knees bent upward towards my chest as I'm contemplating the commands of the voices that call out to me behind the plaster walls.
The tile on the floor is cold,
numbing the bottom of my sore bruised feet and leaving it's frosty chill on my skin.
Why are these voices so loud?
Echo
Echoing
So massively
So violently,
But I'm the only one who can hear their chilling calls.
"Do it!”, they say.
"Do it!"
The water drips down from the shower head
Little hot droplets that produce so much steam, make the tiny hand indentations imprinted on the glass of the shower door visible.
They are here,
Rounded red eyes aglow through the steam on the now hazy glass door and their fangs dripping in red.
Red
Their bright eyes.
Red
Venom on their fangs
Red
Blood which pumps through my veins.
Red
As the lipstick I wore.
Red
My eyes and feet that grow sore.
A bow grazes over the strings of a whining violin, like high pitched screams, I longed to have that ability to scream that loudly too.
So this is what it feels like?
To be voiceless and condemned inside yourself like a prisoner.
All that I've become somehow doesn't matter anymore and behind these tired eyes they call out to the demons lurking behind the plastered walls.
Because I need a little encouragement
to go through with this dark deed.
I created these things Because I don't want to be trapped here anymore...
And I fear I won't be at peace until all my red blood pours onto the floor...
