For Crying Out Loud

3rd

           

Breathe.

In and out.

Lay the mask upon you face.

Adjust you lips and cheeks.

Smile constantly.

Copy the content spark into your dull and lifeless eyes.

Try to be happy again.

You've already mastered it countless times before.

No difference now.

Stop in front of the giant, black, oaken door.

Stop in the shadow, like something forgotten.

But. . . you are forgotten.

Just something in his collection, standing on the shelf next to his other things, concealed with dust.

I'm his possesion, nothing more.

Nothing less? It is, good so?

I can't leave, he won't let me. But he won't care for me either.

Will he?

Retreating his black claws from my bruised flesh and grant me my most desired wish of freedom?