I suck in one shallow huff of oxygen after the other.
If I can keep the air moving in my lungs,
No one will see behind the mask I wear.
The sun kisses my face with ice-cold lips.
The summer breeze trails fire-hot caresses to revive frozen, dead flesh.
I've no spark left in me to rage against the night,
to claw my way through the packed earth
until my cracked and bleeding hands break the surface.
The light in me once lit the darkness to shimmering brilliance.
It was smothered so long ago that even its memory is barely a flicker.
Your lips dripped honey-coated vinegar leading me to the deep grave you dug for me.
Still as death I lay,
an easy target for the loose soil from your shovel to drip onto me.
The dirt got higher and higher with each passing day until the darkness closed in,
until silence was my only companion,
until my own voice inside my head was a hated, miserable sound.
Numb, I am an automaton.
I move with a mechanical heart that feels nothing.
Nothing but the silence you left in me,
with wind echoing around the empty walls of my mind.
Nothing but the steady beat of my mechanical heart.
Nothing but the huffs of air through my lips that suck in grains of dirt with each pass.
Nothing but the thud of dirt hitting earth and flesh.
I used to envy Dorothy with her steel will and determination,
but lately I fancy myself the Tin-Man.
Surely it’s better to live without a heart,
live without that fragile traitor that burns pain across my flesh,
than it is to let that heart keep me captive
to be slowly buried alive.
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