The mouse among the wolves.

Word prompt, survival

The banging lady

You can’t meet my eye and in your voice I hear that you want to cry. You’re relieved as my cat strangles his way through your legs and you run your fingers through his fur that we say is black but is really a dark and beautiful deep ginger. Your voice is tiny compared to the one I hear screaming at four in the morning, you want to apologise, I see it at the tip of your tongue and in your promise of a future in the questions that you ask about my studies. Your apology is not required, not here, not to me, although an explanation for the banging would be greatly received. Today I saw a mouse squinting in the moon light, pleading for the stars to shine just a little, for her, to give her the smallest glimmer of hope, I could not give her hope, so I gave her my time, my forgiveness and my friendship, the rest is up to her, survival comes to those willing to make the changes.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

The chameleon of evolution is a psychotic find.

There’s loneliness in the institute of the white padded walls

Where your voices echo helplessly in the darkened halls.

Where you scream and shout to eliminate your pain

To dissolve the evil voices, so you once again can reign.

There’s a cunningness in the persona that occupies your mind

The chameleon of evolution is a psychotic find.

A masquerade of survival it eliminates the threat

Until sleep deprivation calls in the debt.

The padding feels like candy cotton as the sedation flows

 silencing the voices as the heavy curtains close.

It rips through the grey matter freezing the soul

Punishment for creating an alternative role.