I lay

I lay here unable to get up

Weakened by the ghosts oozing out of the walls into harsh focus

I haven’t the strength to turn away

To cover my eyes

To shield my mind

As the pantomime replays my wounds are salted

Filling me with a pain that beats in me

To the rhythm of my heart

Image upon image,

The colors an emotional kaleidoscope

The palette based in pain

Pain in my gut

Pain in my body

But most of all pain I’m my mind

My mind that forces me to watch these ghosts

These phantoms of my night-mare

This re-enactment of the very source of the fire

This gruesome fire that seeks to consume me

I watch one ghost in particular because she looks so much like me

But it can’t be

I could never survive that

Could never live to tell it

Then I remember why it is

I’m lying here…

It was me and this is my script

As the scene comes to an end

And the ghosts retreat I realize my state

The gaping holes that make up my heart

The mess that is now my spirit

The rag doll I embody

A beloved voice tells me to fight

Get up

Fix myself

But it is a small muffled voice

I ignore it in all totality

Because I was there and it was me

So I turn way

And lay here still