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Hands Up
February 10, 2014
Feel me—
Feel me like before
As if there’s nothing more.
Touch me—
Touch me like we’re riddled with sin
Heartless as we begin.
The evil purge,
The pressure surge,
Blood rushing past your ears
The culmination of your fears.
Here you are: in the moment,
Broken in your torment.
The heat stings.
The bell rings.
They’re coming for you as we speak.
The future’s looking dismally bleak.
Cringe as the lies recede,
Leaving you on the ground to bleed.
Once you had a life to live;
There’s nothing more for you to give.
So raise your hands,
Spiteful daggers to the skies.
(Then again no one’s surprised.)
Better walk slow;
You’re the one that dug this hole.
© Hali S., Robinson, IL
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