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..., where every face is blurred, cold and blind.
Stronger…
You have to be.
Better…
Than this.
Climbing the stairs now, you look down and see the long way you’ve come. Into the darkness of your life and memory; a pit you dug.
Brighter…
Ahead where the light waits. All quiet around you, everyone gone except for…
Your feet make no sound. You tried so many different shoes and found that socks were best on these wood floors. Not so polished as to be slippery. But you hope to slip away.
Stronger.
You come up behind so soft. This one occupied chair and you might be a ghost for all your presence is acknowledged.
Stronger…
You have to be.
Better…
Than this.
Climbing the stairs now, you look down and see the long way you’ve come. Into the darkness of your life and memory; a pit you dug.
Brighter…
Ahead where the light waits. All quiet around you, everyone gone except for…
Your feet make no sound. You tried so many different shoes and found that socks were best on these wood floors. Not so polished as to be slippery. But you hope to slip away.
Stronger.
You come up behind so soft. This one occupied chair and you might be a ghost for all your presence is acknowledged.
You raise your hand....
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excerpt from Death in Singsong by
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