Nursery.txt

Author: Drew Morris
Written: 22-07-23

What did I say?
Fury fills the room:
a cacophonous entrance
rivaled only by a middle school band.
repetitions and frustration

What did I say?
Am I expected to change
between breathes
as if I had lied
as if I am a lie.

What did I say?
Now wrapped in thorns
for our own good.
Mine or Yours?
Which way do they point?
Does it really matter
lest it shed blood?

What did I say?
Visages surrounding,
now contorted, inhuman,
saying they are matching me.

What did I say?
and did it matter
was it mine
or determined
what am I?
my own design
or a mere by-product
of cold, unending, void:
my nursery.

What did I say?
and did it burn
with pain?
with pleasure?
with passion?
did I show strength or weakness
and how would one tell?
Is growth necessitated by suffering?
or am I merely mending:
repairs that none notice
until ruptures, no agony,
brings them distaste.

What did I say?
for cruelty to teach more than decency
and far more than kindness.
Suspense is thrilling
not for sweet, building, anticipation
but for relief: 
from dread,
from terror,
from the inevitable truth
that everything ends eventually.
What did I say?

Should one be scorned
for hastening an obvious fate
or celebrated
for fulling that desire
for release
for relief
What did I say?

Every day passes quicker.
My memories are geckos:
blue-tailed and elusive.
My weathered hands,
too weak to catch them.
What did I say?

You're smiling,
laughing even.
I'm glad
I brought you joy.
What did I say?

Tears adorn my face,
my dry eyes,
and drier lips.
My mind thirts for rest,
should fate permit.
What did I say?

Did they listen?
Are they staring?
Will they remember?
What did I say?