I know I’m not the only one,

The only one with these thoughts of death,

Of chaos, fractured bones and gushing blood.

I’m sure they do not infest my brain in isolation.

I see them daily, the others, cherubic pictures of innocence,

And it is almost impossible to believe,

That those angelic faces can mask such darkness.

But this morning I saw on the communal room floor,

A corpse freshly dropped,

Staring at the ceiling with empty sockets, eyelids chopped off,

Tongue gone and nostrils ripped apart.

By noon it was gone, yet there was no fuss, and no alarm.

Twould have been a scary sight to be honest,

Had I been a lesser mortal, a real bother for one squeaky clean,

But not for one like me, hardcore, versed in the murky arts.

Blank faces or not, sweet smiles regardless,

I know I’m not the only one resident in this convent,

And living a lie…

No I’m not.

I’m not the only one.


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