They called her an iceberg, frosty and insincere Forever scheming behind a polished veneer Eyes sharper than an iceberg’s pointy tip Speech shallow and detached spilled from her lips.
Pale and pristine, untouched by pain or despair Aloof and cruel, with her blank, icy stare Merely drifting along in life’s cold sea Alone and unloved, she would forever be.
Not once did they think she was barely getting by Nor did they see there was more to her than met the eye To the few who knew her, she was an explosion of life Bountiful, uncaring that rumours ran rife- Of her icy exterior and indifferent air, to an iceberg akin She seemed smooth and flawless, but there were cracks within.
The world sucked her soul, she was melting everyday But she’s try to look indestructible, impossible to sway The tip was all they saw, but there was so much more deep below She’d keep living through the pain, and never let it show.
The stars smiled upon us, as if they knew we’d soon join them.
We gazed up at the midnight sky From the shimmery waters, just drifting the world by Our hands clutched in silent union Shoulders bowed under the weight of the cross we were to bear.
Our toes dangling in the icy liquid below Not why we were cold and white as snow In his eyes swam tears, I knew mine were steel I tightened my grip- this was how it was meant to be.
“I don’t want this,” he whispers. I look away “We’re too deep in to now be led astray.” His breath is choked, and he pleads, “But I don’t want to die.” Grasping him in my arms, “You know this isn’t goodbye.”
We’re almost there, and he looks at me like a wild thing Trapped. I know it before it happens- but can’t help the sting. He jumps off, and struggles to the shore At least he’s guilty when he sees me plunge, and leaves me forevermore.
Another painful night, another toxic drag The fumes consume my lungs entirely. Like clammy hands wrapped tightly around my chest Clutching, squeezing all the vim and vigour out. I walk, dazed, under the blinding moonlight Blink, and it's neon motel signs and cracked windowpanes. I don't know if I stumble in, or if the stifling miasma Swallows me whole, and I am Spit out into the Maws of the devil. But perhaps I am the devil itself For I paralyse a gaggle of children Fix them with my cruel gaze, hard as a box of nails And sharp as one too. They blench under its steely force. My tongue flicks out- savours the stench of smoke I call home. Relishes the sickly notes of copper and sodium That stain chapped, frozen lips. My own, as is the blood. But it belongs to others all the same, for it only flows By virtue of that being drained from other bodies. Other healthy, happy, innocent bodies. Not people. Stripping them of soul and spirit, reducing them to mere Names on paper Flesh slick with blood, run through with knives Gripped by calloused hands. Hands foisting the same doom Onto others. The viciousness perpetuates. Feeds on itself And festers, spreads, like some virulent parasite. Tonight, I act as an instrument. Unveil weapons Like they’re some grotesque masterpiece. Instructions Etched onto my hardened pupils, Which know remorse, sympathy or emotion, no more. A tiny girl emerges. Grabs, stabs, and it's done. Sanguinary, but she triumphs in its gore, and I know then I've created a monster...
She’s got too big a heart for any one place She roams and runs, dances her sorrows away For she is tethered, yet smiles adorn her face As she declares, “I’ll see the world one day.”
She’s been dealt abuse, has trauma galore And yet she whistles like she has not a care She deserves joy, fulfilment, so much more She dreams, of reality and setbacks unaware.
She had a box of stamps, and late at night Never earlier, for her father might see She scans them one by one, hoping she might One day visit these places, laugh and be free.
Her mother’s howls, her father’s drunken yell Tears chill her cheeks as she yanks them apart He slaps her instead, and although this is hell She believes this’ll go away, deep in her heart.
She finds her mother dangling from the fan She tears her hair out, she’s had enough. She grabs the stamps, cash, keys to the van Runs out, to be stopped by a hand so rough.
She’s black, blue, bloody, in no time at all And though broken, she grins the pain away She coughs, and her voice, shattered and small It breathes, “I think I’ll see the world today.”
Their fingers brush along the spine They clutch, and their fingers intertwine An angry shake and they twist away Glaring at the other, ruining their day.
Their eyes, in unison, lock on the tome Gaze at it fondly, as at a weary heart’s home It’s once gilded pages, now almost dust And yet, to possess it was a must.
It’s dust jacket crumpled, corners worn down In a condition that could make any librarian frown And yet they both sought it, very much so Currently staring down their rotten foe.
One cried that the volume held a tale Of his ancestors’ adventures o’er hill and dale Of a history silenced, a legend untold Of mighty warriors, sailors, and heroes so bold.
The other declared that the epic within Was of an army that had vanquished greed and sin The victors had been widely known, and yet not truly seen Their pain and sorrow hidden, but to the descendant keen.
And they realised they’d stood on opposite sides As they did now, swelling up with pride Their eyes with hatred burned Oh how suddenly had the tables turned.
A mutual accord hung in the air Together they held the book, and took it where It belonged- cast into roaring flames Not to divide anyone anymore- no casting blame.
“I am not a toy to be used.”
They all looked at her, one and all, as her words resonated through the night air. She stood atop a skyscrapers, teetering on the ledge, and yet she looked as if she’d never been more confident or sure of herself her whole life. She was meant to be there- anything that happened from then on was entirely intentional. She would control the world for the next few minutes- they’d all listen to what she had to say. Speakers carried her voice for miles around- and yet it was so delicate, so precise, so incisive and so personal that it felt like she was whispering to each of them.
“I am not just a shoulder to cry on, or a shield to hide behind, or a sounding board for ideas and advice, or the walking, talking guide to be turned to when you have a problem to solve or question to answer.”
Everyone stood frozen to the ground as she spoke. Every single one of them was a person she knew, intimately or even casually, by design. Her loved ones and acquaintances, everyone who had any bearing on her life watched her. She cared not that most of them truly loved her, nor that the impact their actions had had on her were mostly the doing of her own thoughts and her wretched, insecure, overthinking mind. She was tired of the rational fighting her emotions. She cared not that she was being unreasonable, nor that she was hurting everyone present. For once she’d be selfish, self-cantered, and entirely irrational and emotional.
“I am tired of being the person turned to when there’s no one else around, or the person who’s constantly blamed for every single goddamn disagreement, or the one who hears everyone say she means something to them, but has nothing to show for it. I am tired of loving and seeing the bare minimum of reciprocation in return, tired of hearing people promise they’ll change but turn around and continue on the same way they always have, tired of making excuses for those who’ve wronged me.”
Most of these comments were personal, only apt for a few people. She cared not that most people here would be perplexed. She needed to get all this out. She was nearly done.
“And I’m done hating, blaming, killing myself. I’m done wondering what I could have done better. I’m done wishing that people would love me the same way I love them. I’m done with people ripping out my heart, and patching it with a few paltry platitudes and meaningless reassurances and compliments. I’m done with morality, conscience, emotions and people. I’m done. You will feel true remorse now that I’m done. And there’s only one way I can truly be done.”
And she gracefully stepped off the ledge, hands stretched outward akin to the soaring of an eagle. And they all watched, awestruck and mesmerised, that broken angel whose words, nay, force and will and sheer beauty, they’d been enraptured by. She’d never felt beautiful, not truly- and yet in that moment, she was the most magnificent being alive. Her fall lasted an eternity, and her captivated audience watched with bated breath- they would never forget what had just transpired. She’d made her mark, and she would be mourned, but she’d be liberated at last.
Her body never hit the ground- perhaps lifted straight up to the heavens so she’d face pain no more.
‘O ye beauteous deity from the skies Your joy and grace hold all captive. Your precious smile and crystal eyes Soul so benevolent, so lively, so active. Your tears, so cold, they sicken my heart I shall bathe in them, drown your sorrow. In your redemption, I shall play my part You will be once again venerated on the golden morrow.’
O new neighbour across the street I see your hair so fluffy and your clothes so neat And yet there’s something evil about your smile Your innocent air, crafted with guile.
You sit serenely rocking in your chair You talk to us all, you advise and you care But you do not fool me! No, I’m too wise To be taken in by your black, sugar-coated lies.
You wave everyday when you see me walk by I frown upon your tactics, so wicked and sly My hostility seems to perplex and amuse O warty witch! I see straight through your ruse.
I wait, I enquire, I spy, all night and day Surely you’ll slip up, give the game away My patience rewarded one starry night When you shuffle out under lamps so bright
I watch eagerly as you creep to your yard Wait for my long-due, hard-earned reward Sure enough, you look about and start to dig Drag out a sack, suspicious, creepy, big.
At the very last minute I pounce, and I cling on “Your crimes have been discovered, you notorious con!” My triumphant yells draw the neighbours out I pant, but grin- yell a victorious shout.
As everyone crowds around, whispers loud and clear “Why has this lunatic accosted Mrs Carstairs, the old dear?” I cry, ”She’s a knave, a crook, an evil go-getter!” “A scheming fiend in a nightie and pink sweater.”
I reveal the sack, the evidence of her crimes. The discovery that shall be celebrated in rhymes. I open it, and, eyes wide with horror, dump on the ground Toys, sweets and goodies for the children all around.
You have stayed with me Through thick and thin, tears and grins You have held my hand Squeezed it in comfort and love Pulled me out of dark and foul.
You know my worst sides And have bared your own in deep Solidarity. We are neither of us pure Several, the backs we’ve stabbed.
And yet we stand strong Alone, but for each other Facing a cruel world In condescension. Remain Hands clasped, black hearts intertwined.
"Excuse me miss! How did you get back here? This area is for EMPLOYEES ONLY." Sheila blinked, as though she'd blacked out temporarily. Hastily registering the situation, she rolled her eyes and sighed, the shrill voice grating on her nerves; and the capitalised end to the admonition making it quite clear that she'd been caught red-handed.
She waited a beat before she backed off from the giant almirah she'd been rummaging in- how best could she tackle this situation? Hmmm, maybe...
"Excuse me madam, but we will be forced to call the police unless you turn around immediately!"
Oh well. So much for planning. She turned around and flashed a dazzling smile at the owner of the tiny antique store. The tiny man wasn't impressed, his moustache quivering and face red with anger.
"I do beg your pardon sir. I'm just a rather avid collector of antiques. It's my creature comfort, really. None of what I saw out there satisfied me, so I just thought I'd take a gander in here, see if I could find anything that piqued my..."
"None of these items are for sale."
Sheila bit back annoyance. Sure, she'd been caught trespassing, but that didn't mean the man had to interrupt her so often! Through gritted teeth, she said, "That's quite an exaggeration. I only found one thing, and it was this handbag. Took me forever to find- a dozen doors, booby traps and padlocks galore! Somehow... I managed to unearth this."
She frowned as she said that. She was a little fuzzy on how exactly she'd got the handbag. And why had she wanted it so badly? She looked at the article in her hand. A rather dowdy leather handbag- it was moulding, and seemed more ancient than the coin pouches of ancient Greece. All that desperation... for this?
She looked around her. A hammer lay flung aside. Splintered wood everywhere. Her own hands bled, and yet the pain was a dull afterthought. Alarms blared in the distance. It was overkill. And yet, she could say the same about her own actions to procure this bag.
Distant swirls of memory swam around in her brain. She was a prominent professor of 'Ancient Greek Civilisations', and could remember a dashing man leaning against the doorway as she'd finished answering the last of the audience member's questions at the end of her guest lecture. The man had smiled at her, told her how riveting her lecture had been. She'd been flattered- not often did handsome men give her such sweet compliments. He'd asked her out to dinner... it had been magical. They'd spent a month together, and he'd been the perfect gentleman. So debonair, so complimentary... albeit a little pushy. He'd insisted on just the one thing however. That she visit this here antique store. She'd objected- it was so out-of-the-way, and surely she had better things to do. But he'd insisted. Firmly, icily. She quickly agreed, more out of fear than anything else. But then he'd smiled, and the apprehension just evaporated. She vaguely recalled questioning this odd pursuit, and being decidedly persuaded that this was necessary each time. The rest was a blur... and now she was here, clutching a very important bag in her hands.
"Miss? Miss, hello! That's it, I'm calling the police."
"No." The steel in her voice shocked her, but she knew one thing- she had to get the bag.
"Miss, please, you cannot take that bag..."
"I can, and I will, for I need it." From within her pocket, she pulled out a purse of jangling coins. Gold coins. She flung it at the man. "A fair price, I think."
The man spluttered, and rushed towards her. The next second he was on the ground, grasping the hilt of a dagger sunk deep into his belly. Her eyes widened... what was she doing?
"You... can't.... leave it here... dangerous... safe... centuries.... don't... open... no..."
Panicking, she backed away, and fled. She ran out of the store, ran until she stumbled upon a little bench. She flung herself onto it, panting. She comforted herself by reminding herself that she had paid for the bag, and had, for all intents and purposes, purchased it legally.
She opened it, and pulled out a tiny box. Pulled off the lid. Nothing. A chilling whoosh of air blew past her, and she heard cracks of thunder nearby. She rummaged some more, and pulled out a scroll. Dated, and yet it had a charm. She smiled. A lover's epistle. Not unlike the ones she'd exchanged with... well, he never had revealed his name. Always teased her with it, and all he'd ever admitted was that it began with a 'z'...
She opened the letter. Ancient Greek. How curious. Her practiced eyes scanned the words and read through.
'My love, I regret that we have been apart for so long. Unfortunately, I have no choice. My brother has erred and I strive to correct his wrongs. The Lord is furious, and endeavours to punish him, as well as his creations. His temper is violent, but I must protect you, and all mankind, from it. I know not when we shall see each other again, for I am on the run. I have discovered something, and will disclose it to you. No one should know that you know dear, so please, keep it that way. You will receive something from him, but be wary. It is a trap. I know you shall be curious, love, but please, heed my words. Hide it. Bury it. Protect it, and ensure that it is protected for generations to come. I know what would have happened if you were caught unawares, but now that you know, I trust you'll act wisely. It is a trap, and is a danger to everyone as long as it exist, but it is indestructible. All we can do is ensure that for all eternity, my words are heeded. Never, ever, open the box, Pandora.'
I grappled with the pesky little hook Tried desperately to get the wretched thing loose I banged and cursed, rattled and shook For nothing but despair, and many a bruise.
My fingers now hurt, after an eternity trying My blood embellishes the inky window pane Rage and grief, in my heart, for dominance vying While my battered hand claws at the glass in vain.
I see the demons out there lurking They no longer use deceipt, guile or disguise Knowing fully well their trickery won’t stop working I’ll never succeed in stopping their rise.
With a passion I yank, with a heaving breath And the hook breaks away, I let out a triumphant cry Just as I’d craved the sweet release of death I’d done it, I’d bid those demons an overdue goodbye.
A creature maddened by the promise of victory I hurry to close the window that has haunted me The troubles that plague me, soon to be history They stir not, their faces still distorted with glee.
I tug, and tug once more, but I seem not to win For the cold metal chafes my clammy, bloody palms It slips rom my grasp, and somewhere deep within I feel my sanity slip away, and with it all my qualms.
I let go, and I feel my soul shatter, pierce my heart And yet it’s the most natural thing I’ve ever done I feel tension in the atmsophere, chaos ‘bout to start One last time, I drink in the warmth of the sun.
A gust of wind rushes by, and the window clangs open Flies off its hinges, never to be shut again The demons soar in, their wings slightly broken Irrelevant- now they freely shower relentless pain.
A flurry of bottles floods my vision The window is gone, and I feel the tears soak my skin I pop off a cork, and guzzle down with passion My greatest joy, my biggest sorrow- my delectable, soul-sucking sin.
