A match is struck, and a fire ignites.
Anger brews around the bonfire,
and the people of rage writhe
like snakes in a pit of hot coal
fighting to climb higher,
and higher until their head stands mighty
above all the rest.
Their anger tells them to destroy;
it plants a seed of chaos
in their fragile, innocent hearts
that have now withered
to stiff black stone.
Instead of beating, their hearts turn;
their hearts grind against their lungs,
like cogs in an evil machine.
In their anger, they turn to me
and point shaking fingers
that are beaten and bruised.
They can hear that my heart beats,
and the rhythm makes them seethe.
They turn from the bonfire,
and run towards me.
They want for me to feel the pain
that they have endured in their stomachs –
that they have endured in their lungs.
A lady in shadows mounts a starving horse,
and chases me as I run.
I run faster and faster,
faster than I’ve ever run before.
I am home, I am safe, and I crawl inside my bed.
A spider creeps from my wall to my pillow,
and whispers little noises in my ear.
It whispers little noises,
and my heart stiffens
and grinds against my lungs.
Cerys Gibby – Year 12
