Sometimes people
make the weirdest
similes
these days.
Things break.
Toys break.
People break.
Abused, torn,
stuffed animals,
dolls;
gaping cracks
down their sides,
with these
ironic
smiles
still plastered
on their face.
Beckett,
six years old,
standing at the
top
of the
staircase,
arms spread wide.
Still a child.
And red.
Blurred colours,
that
I
can't see;
too much
blood
in my eyes.
I was thinking;
'Good,
at least
he won't hurt
his own-
Oh wait.’
Sand brown hair,
shaking,
solemn, terrified, defiance.
One rake like grip
on his shoulder
is all it takes.
What I
remember most-
Our identical
wide,
panicked eyes.
My
slow reflexes.
His
expression,
as he's flung
literally across the room,
disappearing
into the darkness.
A single
sickening
CRACK!
from
the
foot
of the stairs.
Silence.
Things break.
Toys break.
People break.
How
is it possible?
To compare
living
beings
with those
abandoned, broken
stitches of fabric,
left
in a
corner.
Like I said;
sometimes,
people make
the weirdest similes,
these days.
And they're
usually
just
not
true.
