I Write
In her dreams he is dying.
Soft foot falls slowly creeping.
A word, a breath, a tear.
Terror replaying like a favourite song.
Over and over he sinks.
Over and over she screams.
Over and over they look.
Over and over nothing but an abyss.
Why couldn’t we stop it?
Why couldn’t someone help?
Why is it that no matter how loud you cry out for someone, anyone, to hear you, people just stare blankly?
It’s as if everyone is bound.
Their wrists tied
and their mouthes stitched shut.
It’s as if we’re all on a turning wheel,
Spinning, spinning, and spinning,
Dropping us deep below the darkest oceans depths, only to let us up to gasp for air, at the moment we find peace.
Soft foot falls slowly creeping.
A word, a breath, a tear.
Terror replaying like a favourite song.
Over and over he sinks.
Over and over she screams.
Over and over they look.
Over and over nothing but an abyss.
Why couldn’t we stop it?
Why couldn’t someone help?
Why is it that no matter how loud you cry out for someone, anyone, to hear you, people just stare blankly?
It’s as if everyone is bound.
Their wrists tied
and their mouthes stitched shut.
It’s as if we’re all on a turning wheel,
Spinning, spinning, and spinning,
Dropping us deep below the darkest oceans depths, only to let us up to gasp for air, at the moment we find peace.
