#FlashMobWrites 1×23 : Carrion Flowers

I turn the volume up and listen,
As the music screams inside my head,
“Criminal
The Suffering
It makes me think like a
Criminal
When we’re alone.”

And I am alone.
I’m always alone.
I walk, in silence.
One mile down.
Two to go.
I embrace my isolation.
It’s all I truly have.

Gray clouds fill the sky.
There is anger in them.
Bottled up.
Trapped.
Seeking a way out.
An escape.
Release.

I can taste the water in the air.
Feel it on my skin.
Thick.
Clinging.
It would push most people indoors.
Not me.

I feel the grin on my face.
The gleam in my eyes.
“Bring it!
Bring the pain!”

The music changes,
Then changes again,
And again.
Never ending.
I hear the words once more.
I more than hear them.
I feel them.

“This is where I redeem myself
When I show that I’m not blind.
Can’t follow the cattle people.
Not one of the Kine.”
The beat,
The rhythm,
Drives each step.

Who cares how many steps.
Who cares how long it takes.
Who cares what I have to do.
What the day brings.
Work.
Life.
It all falls away.

And I feel.
Escape.

The second mile falls.
With it, the damage in my shoulder
Begins to talk to me.
Another would take the five-pound weight
Hanging on his wrist
Off.

I’m not another.
I hold on to the pain.
I know what it means.
Why it’s there.
And I know,
Like the walk.
The pain is all I have.

I focus on the music,
The rhythm,
The beat.
Walk to the beat.
To the beat.
To the beat.

I hold on to the pain.
Knowing the truth.
It won’t kill me.
Unless I let it.

And come the next day,
As I walk once more,
That pain will be gone.
All that will remain is a memory
Of what it took,
What I had to endure,
To survive.

In a life
On a world
I never made.

333 Words
@LurchMunster


This is my entry into #FlashMobWrites 1×23, hosted by Ruth Long and Cara Michaels. Please, go read all the stories in for #FlashMobWrites 1×23. You might find something you like. But if you don’t read them, how will you ever know?

I Don’t Know

I still wonder
Every day
Who I really am.
Am I anyone at all.
Or no one.

I have no way to explain
This question I ask.
Everyone I know
Seems to know
Who they are.
What they want.
Where they wish to go.
Who they wish to be.

Not me.

I learned
When I was young
To survive.
In a world I never made.
A world I didn’t understand.
A world I couldn’t understand.

I learned
To watch the people
Around me.
Study them.
The things they did.
The things they said.
They way they behaved.
When they cried.
When they laughed.
How they dressed.

I learned to watch,
To study,
To observe

Everything.

I taught myself
How to become them.
How to behave like them.
Act like them.
Do the things they did.
When they did those things.

I learned to blend in.

I became a chameleon.
Putting on a costume
Everywhere I went.
Changing who I was,
How I behaved,
Based on where I was,
Who I was with.

I became
Who I needed to be,
Who I was supposed to be,
In the environment
I was in.

And who I was changed
Every time the environment did.

Somewhere along the way
I lost me.
I had to be so many other people.
So many other ways.
I had to bottle up
What I felt.
What I thought.
How I would have behaved.
Every day of life
For so long.

I had to blend in.
And be like everyone
Around me.

That I lost
Myself.

So when you ask me,
“Who are you?”
There is no answer I can give.
When you ask me,
“What do you believe?”
There is nothing I can say.
When you ask me,
“How do you feel?”
I can only shrug,
And lie,
And say I am OK.

Because I have no answer
For such simple questions.

And when I look into the mirror
Every morning I wake up,
And I ask the person I see there,
Looking back at me,
“Who are you?
Who do you want to be?”

The only answer
I have ever found
Is
“I don’t know.”

For I never learned
Who I am.
Or who I wish to be.

All I learn
Was how to be
What the people around me
Wanted me to be.