Falling

Judgement is their artform.

They will cut him until he bleeds like a

polaroid.

He waits for a sign.

A sign to say he is free.

“Where did you get those scars?”

If they can’t mould him

They’ll scold him.

If they can’t shape him

They’ll rape him

With views as violent as war.

“This box is safe. You must stay inside this

box.”

A demon with angel wings.

He is not allowed to exist among human

perfection.

He must repent and walk a narrow edge

Or his wings will be clipped.

“Apologize. Because you scare us. How

dare you?”

He will powder his nose

Realizing they already drained

The life from his face.

He is a porcelain doll.

A shadow of death.

“You must colour inside the lines.

No wait, you mustn’t colour at all.”

Feeling their hollow eyes

Against his spine.

He is running from them.

Running from himself.

Praying to be anyone else.

“Because we cannot control you, we exile

you.”

Surrounded by a suffocating veil of

shadows.

He steps off that narrow edge

Refusing to be pushed by them.

Forever

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Cover Photo by Tim Grundtner.