One day I’ll leave this cage, and leave nothing but
Two eyes lurking in the shadows, waiting for the clock to strike
Three, so that I might reenact this struggle of
Four lonely years locked in only my fear that
Five me’s would not be enough for you.
Six moons come and go before you commit sin
Seven, with little regard for the
Eight cries I’m holding in as I count crows of
Nine, that gather as the clock strikes
Hush, hush, quickly, before it begins again.
One more hallucination that the world is made up of just us
Two; you shove it down my throat with
Three wicked fingers that make me wince
Four times before I draw the line at Five.
Six senses take me over, if only in my imagination that houses
Seven realities in which you take
Eight wounds delivered with
Nine easy strikes that come from my very own
Hush, hush, quickly, it’s time to breathe again.
One happy ending I’m determined to find for the
Two of me’s that you’ve created in the hell of just us
Three, where Four thousand screams have never been heard and
Five thousand tears have never dropped.
Six emotions; constantly churning what feels as though must be
Seven stomachs, all in disgust that I’ve let the clock strike
Eight again, while plotting
Nine ways to never see your
Ten temperaments again.
Hush, hush, quickly, the moon is sneaking up again.
But they say all I have to do is count to Ten.
Shyla Fairfax-Owen ©