I am a mirror hanging
deep within your subconscious.
Nailed through the back of your skull,
stabbing you with reality every time you
scratch your head in disbelief.
You have regret smeared across your faces.
Each smile, twisted and convoluted,
appearing strait though pious braces.
I owed you a penance.
Every moment an hour,
every hour a day,
every day another page
of things to wash clean with my own blood.
I tried so hard.
You walked around a chalked existence
with a silence that descends only when
breath is exiled to the lungs...
like you were waiting for something.
In this town of veiled walls
I was chained like a dog.
A piece of pleasure in the pocket
of craftsmen who bled over every link.
Your confessions eased the pressure
of heavy hammers on the anvils.
I was just something to be slammed.
Each of you would cover me back up when you left...
as if it was some form of apology.
I hang on an invisible wall
seeing right through the sacrament,
stained teeth that you bare constantly.
I peer into every house hearing every whisper,
every reason you are justified.
And though you have built a tower to speak with God
because his answers weren’t enough,
I hope every. one. of you. knows that silence is an answered prayer.
His forgiveness alone will hold your soul,
because I will eventually scream
until your prisons come tumbling down.
And I will choke you all with the chain that you have made.
I am Grace.