Where there’s a wall
There’s always more than One
Two, Three, Four.
Above and below
No escape
No ladder
No door
Just iron bars and suffocating darkness that clings to you like a cloak.
Laboured breaths
A thundering heart that
Never seems to slow its frantic beating
There are quiet whispers that
You could overhear
In the corner, in front, next to, behind you.
You’ve learned to not sit in the middle of the room
Like a madman, swaying back and forth.

Smile that catastrophic fake smile that seemed to say: “I’m ok. I’m happy. I’m fine.”
The edges brittle with pain and disaster,
Your eyes scream
“No, I’m not.”

There are many methods of torture
For breaking you
But this one-
This one was the worse.

Down long hallways
Past a steel door
Down ricketym wooden steps
Nuns clad in black and stained with red.
With slow, wicked smiles that spoke of nothing, but evil
Pushing spikes into your flesh
One by one.
Until you are nothing more, but wailing screams and pitiful sobs.

There are many methods of torture
For breaking you
But this one-
This one was the most painful.

Through distorted screens
Shaking fingers
Trembling gasps
And a heart that quivered with fear
People donned Masks
Promising nothing, but your disappearance, death, enslavement.
They’re all the same thing.
Friends depending on you.
To do the impossible
To do the difficult
To do things you should never do
Pushing the knife into your hands
And asking to KILL
For their sake.

A man in black only watches
As you crumble down, battle-weary
Like a marble status turned to dirt
The pieces falling and falling
Until there is nothing left
But one achingly, vulnerable heart.

There are many methods of torture
For breaking you
But this one-
This one was the one that broke you.

Where there’s a wall
There’s always more than One
Two, Three, Four.
Above or Below. You’ve learned to accept this fate
This newfound brokenness
There are hissing words to be whispered
Through iron bars
Gentle reassurances to utter
Tears to shed
Family that laments
Whose bitter cries could do nothing
There are things to be said
Words to be written.

On this side of the wall
I managed to climb to the top
The rock clawed away with bloody fingers and lost time
Bathed in golden light
Eyes shut
Soft exaltation
I hear the poisonous moans below
But I dare not look down.

I look towards the edge
Take a steo
One more
A voice cries out
But I am already falling.