Frayful

Corpses dangled in the trees with hollow eyes and rotted flesh. It was not so much the sight but rather the smell of the decomposing bodies that made my eyes burn and my breakfast reappear on the sidewalk. Laughter arose from behind me. "Now what's this? This poor fellow can't even handle a few mere corpses! How could we possibly take him on?" the old man laughed, his glasses fogged over from the morning mist. "Now, now old man, how often is it we come about someone willing to do dirty work of this sorts? You forget that he's still new to this. In time he will get used to it. Perhaps." the young man replied, his voice edged with laughter.

She danced the same dance Until the day she died Just looking for a place Under this unforgiving sky With broken bones And weathered hands She tried to find her worth She didn't stand a chance On this crooked bitter earth The music broke her The pride choked her And that was how she died To her last breath She had lived a lie

The executioner tries to steady his shaking hands, his little bony body turning blue in the midwinter's cold. He's too weak, and he's ill; you can see it written all over his hollow, lifeless face. He stares blankly at the silent crowd before him as he lifts his rather heavy axe. He raises it high above his head, his bones and the thick handle ironic in proportion. Then, his face transforms, and his breathing becomes more labored. He eyes the object of attention, and then.... Another head rolls. And the crowd cheers.

It's constant. Redundant. It's ugly and beautiful. Nine shades of silver. Infinite shades of grace. It reaches down for me, But I push it back. I snuff it out. Five more, Just five more, Then I will embrace it, I will embrace that fiery grace. Five..... Six....... Eight, ten more. But before I can reach it, I'm on the floor. I've strived to become What I could never be It seems that grace Has fallen away from me

I watch as the train chugs away from the station, taking her farther and farther away from me. My best friend. I do not, and I probably never will understand why these things keep happening to me. My sister? She's gone. My brother? He's gone. My father, my mother? They're gone, too. When the train is finally out of sight, the skies open up and down pours the rain. Maybe it's God finally declaring His hatred of me, His slap in the face, His last laugh. He's laughing. I know He is, because now everything's gone. I have nothing left. I plunge back into the weeping, waving, wailing crowd and disappear into the cold, gray streets. My mind has

You scream As the pain digs through your veins And racks your crippled frame And in that very moment You forget that Fear is but a dead thing