This is the part with the screaming. It never ends
well: crisis over, survivors victorious. No, this is when
the bad thing happens. The twist at the end, a dream
from which you wake to a dream of waking, but then
wake up to horror, forever. If I wasn’t smiling so hard,
you might believe me, it doesn’t matter. I know
it’s true. I’m the rotten seed, trojan horse, evil twin –
looks just like me but is filled up with this poison;
Everyone here is dead, before it starts. People here
know what I can do: I’m good with a rifle, I know how
to turn most anything into a trap. They trusted me
without ever wondering who I was before all this fell
on our heads. Why I’m so good with different knives
and disappearing in the night. They trusted me
and trust I felt the same about them. Never asked
to see the wound I say I got from the window nail
and now it doesn’t matter. I’m inside the safe place
and thigs will not end well for them. I’ve been dead
to them since right after the bite. I switched sides
long before I started to cool to room temperature.
No comments:
Post a Comment