Tales from an unknown mind

A childs life

Silent whispers of nothingness pierced   my broken head.
A genital nonexistence that made the darkness more harrowing.
And yet it was not darkness but the colour of nothing that surrounded me cradling my fractured self, holding my cracked glass segments together in a hopeless attempt to stop me from shattering.
But if you looked closely through the cracks you could see a small rotting child screaming out for help since they were forced to stay living in a decaying body and so their mind be came twisted and malicious with the joyous idea of the sweet release of death that humanity refused the child to have.
Then humanity decided to judge the child whose fault was not it's own on living and people began to choke the child with skeletal hands stained with the blood of their fellows and cut the child's neck and yet they still made the child live but each time the child was itself it broke due to the weight of reality a child should not know that people would harm the child more and more.
But when the child became to scared to feel physical pain, their pale skin torn to tainted crimson that when healed left marks of white upon white causing disappointed sighs and stares, the people inflicted torturous mental pain on the young child destroying the little humanity the kid had. The little hope the kid had. The little want to live the kid had.
However no matter how long the child bellowed and screamed for the endless abyss to swallow them whole killing off their pitiful existence the people refused.
So naturally the child created a facade: a different existence from their own that would live reality for them. So the child could rot away inside, no one ever seeing, no one ever knowing the child was ever real.
But as if it was beckoned from the hellish fire that is reality, humanity chipped and cracked and forcefully bashed down against the facade until years later it started to crumble away revealing the disfigured and rotting child yelling out into the unseen whisper of the past and current self loathing.
What is the colour of darkness? Or is that like asking what our humans questionable souls.
Still decaying the child watches as everyone who told the facade that they cared and would be there run away as they see a fraction of what is inside through the cracks. As they see the decomposing child who is suffocating on the tendrils of insanity.
Unseen tears fell down the child's face. Happy. Finally speaking after so many years. But are their words so happy?
" hello death! I'm so glad you finally found me!"
The child shouted this as they broke free from inside the broken facade and limped hastily into the sweet caring arms of death that would free the child from the colourless darkness and whispers of silence.

Dread filled the room of a dainty house in a place of somewhere when a mother walked into the room that once belonged to her child as she found them dead.
Their self starved body close to a skeleton, jagged pieces of torn flesh on their arms that they sliced deep with a sharpened item, thick red liquid oozed from the child tainting the floor with its heavenly red, their neck with scares of previous failed hangings had a deep slit where if you listened through the dense quietness you could hear a faint whistling noise.
As if she had to, the mother cried but of what kind of tears fell.

This is reality.